A  GUIDE  TO  RUSSIAN 
LITERATURE 

(1820—  1917) 


BY 


MOISSAYE  J.   OLGIN,   Ph.D. 

AUTHOR   OF    "THE    SOUL  OF  THE   RUSSIAN   REVOLUTION' 


1 


»  "a  •  ' 


NEW  YORK 

HARCOURT,   BRACE  AND  HOWE 

1920 


'RESERVATION 
;OPY  ADDED 
)RIG«NALTOBE 
DETAINED 


SEP  19  1994 


COPYRIGHT,     I920,     BY 
HARCOURT,    BRACE    AND    HOWE,    INC. 


THE  OUINN  AND  BODEN  COMPANY 
RAHWAY.   N.  J. 


P£30/. 


>\ 


PREFACE 

A  national  literature  may  be  viewed  as  a  manifestation 
of  a  purely  creative  genius,  or  as  a  reflection  of  the 
spiritual  life  of  a  people,  or  as  a  picture  of  its  national 
character  and  socio-political  conditions.  It  is  evident 
that  descriptions  of  social  groups  and  classes  or  reproduc- 
tions of  spiritual  gropings  must  form  an  element  of  every 
literature,  the  writers  being  children  of  their  times,  mem- 
bers of  their  nations,  and  drawing  their  experience  from 
immediate  surroundings.  Yet  hardly  any  literature  equals 
the  Russian  in  reproducing  the  spiritual  struggles  of  men, 
and  few  western  writers  have  been  as  willing  as  their 
Russian  colleagues  to  go  down  to  the  very  bottom  of 
everyday  existence  and  to  scrutinize  the  economic,  the 
social,  and  the  political  life  of  their  country.  This  makes 
Russian  literature  a  valuable  object  of  study  not  only  as 
art,  but  also  as  the  surest  road  to  the  understanding  of 
the  Russian  people  and  Russian  conditions. 

The  task  of  the  present  volume  is  to  be  of  assistance 
in  such  studies.  From  the  literary  productions  of  the 
nineteenth  and  twentieth  centuries  it  selects  only  those 
which  have  a  value  for  the  present,  either  on  account  of 
their  artistic  qualities,  or  as  representing  some  aspect  of 
Russian  life.  This  marks  a  point  of  departure  from  the 
traditional  histories  of  literature.  The  Guide  omits  many 
poets  who  were  of  importance  in  their  time,  yet  have  been 
overshadowed  by  greater  contemporaries  or  successors 
working  in  the  same  field.    This  is  the  case  with  Nikitin 

v 

ill  li.  0A2 


VI 


PREFACE 


in  the  presence  of  Koltzov  and  Nekrasov,  with  Maikov 
and  Polonsky  in  the  presence  of  Pushkin,  Lermontov  and 
Foeth,  with  Minsky  in  the  presence  of  Balmont  and 
Bryusov.  The  Guide  omits  a  number  of  older  writers 
describing  economic  and  social  conditions  when  the  same 
conditions  have  been  presented  more  adequately  and  with 
more  talent  by  others.  Such  is  the  case  with  Grigoro- 
vitch,  Pisemsky,  Potapenko,  Stanyukovitch.  All  these 
and  many  other  writers  must  take  their  place  in  a  history 
of  Russian  literature,  yet  there  is  no  room  for  them  in  a 
practical  guide.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Guide  includes 
many  an  author  of  the  present  generation  who  may  not 
prove  great  sub  specie  aeternitatis,  yet  who  is  indispen- 
sable as  a  truthful  narrator  and  interpreter  of  events  in 
recent  times.  To  this  class  belong  Chirikov,  Yushkevitch, 
Gusev-Orenburgsky,  Mujzhel.  The  Guide  intends  to 
answer  the  persistent  question  coming  from  many  quar- 
ters, "  What  shall  I  read  to  understand  Russian  character 
and  Russian  life?  "  Yet  it  passes  by  no  book  that  marks 
a  step  forward  in  the  progress  of  purely  artistic  creation. 

The  fact  that  a  book  has  not  been  translated  into  Eng- 
lish could  not  serve  as  a  reason  for  excluding  it  from  the 
Guide,  as  the  list  of  translations  is  steadily  growing  and 
as  the  volume  is  intended  to  be  of  service  not  only  to  the 
general  reader  but  also  to  publishers  and  translators. 
Moreover,  in  most  cases  it  would  be  profitable  to  read 
a  chapter  devoted  even  to  an  untranslated  author,  as  this 
may  help  in  understanding  the  general  tendencies  in  Rus- 
sian literature  and  the  drift  of  Russian  thought. 

A  selection  not  only  among  writers  but  also  among  the 
works  of  each  writer  is  inherent  in  a  practical  guide. 
Works  have  been  specified  which  characterize  the  creative 
personality  of  the  author,  or  possess  a  special  literary 


PREFACE  vii 

value,  or  throw  light  on  some  particular  facet  in  Russian 
life.  This  criterion  made  it  necessary  to  select,  on  the 
whole,  fewer  works  from  authors  of  a  uniform  character 
and  more  from  versatile  writers.  Thus,  the  fact  that  the 
Guide  mentions  less  of  Bunin's  and  more  of  Andreyev's 
works  does  not  in  any  way  put  Bunin  below  Andreyev; 
it  only  indicates  that  Andreyev's  interests  were  wider 
and  so  more  of  his  works  are  required  to  give  his  portrait 
as  a  writer.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Guide  is  not  over- 
burdened with  works  that  make  tedious  reading  for  even 
the  Russian  of  our  time  because  they  are  too  local  or 
too  detailed  or  somewhat  antiquated.  For  this  reason, 
only  a  few  of  Uspensky's  and  Shchedrin's  works  are  men- 
tioned. 

The  space  given  each  author  naturally  varies  in  accord- 
ance with  his  place  in  Russian  literature.  Yet  departures 
from  this  general  rule  are  unavoidable.  Writers  of  the 
older  generations  receive  a  less  detailed  treatment  than 
authors  of  our  time.  Writers  well  known  in  English- 
speaking  countries  are  comparatively  less  dwelt  upon 
than  writers  totally  unknown.  This  procedure  may  be 
open  to  criticism  from  the  standpoint  of  historic  perspec- 
tive; in  a  practical  guide,  however,  it  is  natural  that 
Ostrovsky,  a  writer  of  fifty  years  ago,  should  occupy  less 
space  than  our  contemporary,  Veresayev.  It  is  also  ex- 
cusable that  Turgenev,  so  well  known  and  so  generously 
commented  upon,  should  not  be  reviewed  with  more  de- 
tail than  Sergeyev-Tzensky,  whose  name  has  hardly  ap- 
peared in  English.  The  underlying  idea  is  that  modern 
literature  in  its  best  manifestations  gives  a  better  insight 
into  the  soul  of  modern  Russia  than  the  works  of  long 
passed  generations. 

It  would  have  been  gratifying  to  the  author  had  it  been^ 


viii  PREFACE 

possible  to  make  the  Guide  a  mere  compilation  of  Rus- 
sian critical  essays.  This  would  present  a  study  in  Rus- 
sian literature  written  by  the  keenest  Russian  scholars 
for  Russian  consumption.  This,  however,  could  not  be 
realized,  at  least  not  within  the  scope  set.  It  remained, 
therefore,  to  use  quotations  from  Russian  critics  only 
as  supplements,  or  as  appreciations  of  individual  books. 
The  quotations  were  taken  from  the  collected  works  of 
recognized  students  of  Russian  literature,  from  individual 
treatises,  and  from  essays  appearing  in  the  most  respected 
monthlies. 

The  Guide  makes  no  attempt  at  criticizing  the  individ- 
ual authors,  i.e.,  at  pointing  out  not  only  their  merits 
but  also  their  shortcomings  and  limitations.  It  is  as- 
sumed that  the  qualities  that  make  an  author  desirable 
as  an  object  of  study  are  his  originality,  his  artistic  per- 
sonality, his  closeness  to  Russian  realities,  not  his  fail- 
ures or  weaknesses  which  may  be  detected  by  one  critic 
or  another  according  to  their  conceptions.  Therefore, 
no  mention  is  made  of  the  various  and  frequent  attacks 
launched  at  Gorky  after  the  first  period  of  his  glory. 
Similarly,  the  fierce  controversy  over  the  merits  of  the 
symbolists  or  Leonid  Andreyev  could  hardly  be  given 
sufficient  consideration.  For  detailed  information,  the 
student  will,  of  course,  have  to  turn  to  the  work  of  the 
respective  writers  and  to  more  elaborate  critical  surveys. 
Only  where  some  negative  quality  gnaws  at  the  root  of 
an  author's  talent,  it  had  to  be  pointed  out  in  the  Guide. 

A  word  must  be  said  about  the  terms  story,  novelette, 
and  novel  as  used  in  the  Guide.  These  terms  are  indica- 
tive only  of  the  approximate  size  of  a  work.  A  short 
work,  whatever  its  contents  or  character,  if  not  exceeding 
in  size  some  fifty  pages  of  an  ordinary  book,  is  termed 


PREFACE  ix 

story.  A  longer  work  of  between  fifty  and  one  hundred 
and  fifty  pages  is  called  novelette.  A  longer  production 
is  marked  as  novel.  Those  names  are  a  mere  expedient 
for  the  orientation  of  the  reader.  In  Russian  the  re- 
spective names  are  romdn,  povyest,  razskdz. 


CONTENTS 

i 

THE  GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

PAGE 

General  Survey 3 

C2rsTPii5ii3 14 

~  A.  S.  Griboyedoj^ 22 

f  M.  J.  I^ermontqS 25 

A.  V.  Koltzov 33 

V.  G.  Byelinsky 35 

P032S3-.. 41 

CSTT.  Aksakov_j 49 

t-A^.-73s^viS^ 52 

^Xg-  M-  Reshetnikov 56 

L  RG.  Chernyshevsky^ 57 

D.    I.    PlSAREV 62 

N.  A.   Nekrasov 67 

.   I.  A.  Gontcharov 71 

LJ.  S.  Turgenev) 76 

~V.  L.  Garshi^ 82 

S.  J.  Nadson 85 

Th.  I.  Tyutchev 87 

Alexey  Tolstoi 93 

.    A.  A.  Foeth-Shenshin 96 

F? *M.'T)OSTOYEVSKY  ^ IOI 

Vlawmir3°Pvyov II0 

i L.  N.  TolstoT] 114 

N.   §.   Lyeskov 120 

M.  E.  Saltykov  (Shchedrin) 126 

G.  I.  USPENSKY 129 

N.    K.    MlKHAYLOVSKY 131 

P.   Yakubovttch 134 

D.  N.  Mamin-Sibiryak 136 

P.    D.    BOBORYKIN 140 

A.  P.  Chekhov :  143 

N.  G.  Garin-Mikhaylovsky 147 

V.  G.  Korolenko 152 

xi 


xii  CONTENTS 

II 
THE  "MODERNISTS" 

PAGE 

General  Survey 157 

K.  D.  Balmont 171 

V.  Bryusov 177 

K.  D.  Merezhkovsky 180 

F.  SOLOGUB     .  l86 

A.    VOLYNSKY 192 

A.  Block 195 

V.   IVANOV 197 

Andrey  Byely 199 

III 

THE  RECENT  TIDE 

General  Survey        .  209 

Maxim  Gorky 222 

Leonid   Andreyev 230 

V.  Veresayev 240 

A.    Kuprin 245 

•I.    BUNIN 251 

O.  G.  Sergeyev-Tzensky 257 

M.  P.  Artzybashev 265 

EVGENY    CHIRIKOV 270 

V.  Ropshin ' 277 

Alexey  Remizov 281 

v.  v.  mujzhel 287 

Semyon  Yushkevitch 292 

S.  I.  Gusev-Orenburgsky .  298 

Boris  Zaitzev 303 

APPENDIX 

Juvenile  Literature  in  Russia 309 


LIST  OF  PRONUNCIATIONS 


a  is  pronounced  like  the 

English  a  in  garden. 

g  "            "            "     " 

« 

g  in  good. 

e  "            "           "     " 

M 

e  in  yes. 

zh  «           "           "     " 

it 

s  in  pleasure. 

:  u                ((                ii       « 

M 

i  in  liberty. 

kh"            "            "     " 

Scots 

ch  in  loch. 

l  "           "         soft  like  the  English  1  in  flute. 

Name  of  Author 

Pronunciation 

Aksakov 

Aksakawv 

-Andreyev 

Andryeyev 

Artzybashev 

Artzybashev 

'  Balmont 

Baunawnt 

Block 

Blavfck 

Boborykin 

Bawbawrykeen 

Bryusov 

Bryussawv 

Bunin 

Booneen 

Byelinsky 

Byeleenskee 

Byely 

Byeli? 

Chekhov 

Chyekhawv 

Chernyshevsky 

Chyernishevskee 

Chirikov 

Cheereekawv 

•  Dostoyevsky 

Dawstawyevskee 

Foeth 

Fet 

Garin-Mikhaylovsky 

Gareen-Meekhaylawvskee 

Garshin 

Garsheen 

Gogol 

G£v^gawL 

Gontcharov 

Gawntchara^v 

Gorky 

Gawrkee 

Griboyedov 

Greebawyedawv 

Gusev-Orenburgsky 

Goossyev-Orenboorgskee 

Ivanov 

Eevanawv 

Koltzov 

KawLtzawv 

Korolenko 

Kawrawlyenkaw 

Kuprin 

Koopreen 

Lermontov 

Lyermawntawv 

Lyeskov 

Lyeskawv 

Mamin-Sibiryak 

Mameen-Seebeeryak 

XIV 


LIST  OF  PRONUNCIATIONS 


Name  of  Author 

Pronunciation 

Merezhkovsky 

Myeryezhkawvskee 

Mikhaylovsky 

Meekhaylawskee 

Mujzhel 

MooyzheL 

Nadson 

Nadsawn 

Nekrasov 

Nyekrassawv 

Ostrovsky 

Awstrawvskee 

Pisarev 

Peessaryev 

Pushkin 

Pooshkeen 

Remizov 

Remeezawv 

Reshetnikov 

Ryesh6tneekawv 

Ropshin 

Rawpsheen 

Saltykov-Shchedrin 

S&ltikawv-Shchedreen 

Sergeyev-Tzensky 

Syergyeyev-Tzyenskee 

Sologub 

SawlawgOob 

Solovyov 

Sawlawvyawv 

Tolstoi 

Tawlstawy 

*Turgenev 

Toorgyenyev 

Tyutchev 

Tyootchev 

Uspensky 

Oospyenskee 

Veresayev 

Vyeryessayev 

Volynsky 

Vawlinskee 

Yakubovitch 

Yakoobawveetch 

Yushkevitch 

Yooshkyeveetch 

Zaitzev 

Zaitzev 

; 


THE  GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 


) 


GENERAL  SURVEY 


The  historians  of  Russian  literature  follow  its  progress 
from  decade  to  decade.  They  speak  of  the  literature 
and  men  of  the  forties,  the  sixties,  the  seventies.  They 
find  clear  lines  of  demarcation  between  one  such  period 
and  another.  For  the  purpose  of  a  more  comprehensive 
survey,  however,  Russian  literature  from  the  twenties  to 
the  beginning  of  the  nineties  of  the  past  century  may  be 
viewed  as  one  great  entity.  The  points  of  resemblance 
between  the  literary  productions  of  this  entire  period 
are  numerous. 

i.  Russian  literature  is  still  a  product  of  the  land-own- 
ing nobility.  Pushkin  and  Lermontov,  Gontcharov  and 
Aksakov,  Turgenev  and  the  Tolstois,  and  many  another 
great  light,  were  born  in  the  mansions  of  the  landlords, 
breathed  the  air  of  family  traditions,  led  a  carefree  life 
in  their  youth,  received  a  good  education  at  the  hands 
of  private  tutors,  often  foreigners,  or  in  secluded  aristo- 
cratic schools.  This  gave  a  certain  unconscious  refine- 
ment to  their  writings,  and  influenced  their  conception 
of  life.  Ordinarily  they  knew  the  village  and  the  provin- 
cial town  well,  but  the  large  city  was  quite  outside  their 
range  of  vision.  They  were  intimately  connected  with  the 
land-holding  class,  and  consequently  had  an  understand- 
ing of  the  peasantry  which  was  grouped,  geographically 
and  economically,  around  the  landlords'  mansions,  but 
they  were  little  interested  in  the  problems  of  the  city  folk. 
Russia  for  them  was  the  village.  The  Russian  people 
coincided  with  the  Russian  peasants. 

3 


4         SGBfcPffiaa  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

In  the  last  third  of  the  century,  the  raznotchinetz,  the 
man  from  the  ranks,  makes  his  appearance  in  Russian 
literature.  Up  to  that  time,  only  very  few  sons  of  the 
people  succeeded  in  treading  upon  the  sacred  literary 
ground.  The  poets  Koltzov  and  Nikitin,  and  the  story- 
writer  Reshetnikov,  were  the  best  known.  Now,  with  the 
general  progress  of  life  and  the  development  of  educa- 
tion, more  and  more  writers  of  the  non-privileged  classes 
step  to  the  front.  The  new  men  have  a  new  boldness  in 
their  manner;  they  are  crude;  they  are  in  many  cases 
more  vigorous  than  their  noble  brothers,  as  raw  life 
often  appears  to  have  greater  vigor  than  its  more  refined 
manifestations.  Yet  the  new  writers  cannot  compete  with 
the  others  in  charm,  in  ease,  in  masterful  handling  of  their 
subjects,  in  artistic  poise.  Notwithstanding  all  the 
changes  in  Russian  life  gradually  developing  after  the 
abolition  of  serfdom  in  1861,  the  dominant  figure  in 
literature  is  still  the  son  of  the  nobleman's  nest. 

2.  Russian  literature  of  this  period  is,  to  a  large 
extent,  a  substitution  for  social  and  political  activities. 
Russian  intelligentzia,  well  acquainted  with  the  ideas  and 
movements  of  the  western  world,  was  prevented  by 
autocracy   from  putting   its  ideas   into  practice.    The 

prngrPQgjyft  plpinpntg  wprp  prartirally  harrpH irom_.any 
pronomir.  or  political  WOrfc  r\nt  iaAZArp.fL_hy  the.  ruling 
.group.  Many  of  those  elements  hit  their  heads  against 
the  black  wall  of  Russian  absolutism,  in  a  vain  attempt 
to  break  it.  Those  were  the  revolutionists  of  the  seven- 
ties and  early  eighties  who  stained  their  martyr-path  with 
tears  and  blood  and  were  finally  crushed  by  the  old 
regime.  But  they  were  few.  The  vast  majority  pre- 
ferred to  dream.  The  intelligentzia  lived  an  imaginary 
life  in  its  books  and  writings.    Literature  in  Russia  was 


GENERAL  SURVEY  5 

more  than  a  pastime,  more  than  an  artistic  reflection  of 
life.  It  was  life  itself.  It  was  the  only  realm  where 
the  creative  power  of  the  nation's  best  men  could  find 
a  semblance  of  constructive  work. 

It  is  for  this  reason  that  our  political  factions  almost 
always  coincided  with  literary  schools.  The  Slavophils 
and  the  Westerners  of  the  forties  and  fifties  were  funda- 
mentally divided  in  their  political  conceptions.  Had 
they  been  allowed  to  carry  their  controversy  into  the 
political  field,  the  Slavophils  might  have  conducted  a 
campaign  for  a  patriarchal  system  based  on  confidence 
between  the  Czar  as  father  and  the  people  as  his  chil- 
dren, with  a  Parliament  discussing  but  not  voting  bills, 
while  the  Westerners  might  have  striven  to  introduce 
a  parliamentary  system  on  a  European  scale.  Much  of 
the  intellectual  energies  of  both  factions  would  have 
been  absorbed  by  purely  political  activities,  and  litera- 
ture would  have  only  reflected  these  processes  of  life. 
Under  autocratic  rule,  however,  both  factions  turned  to 
the  field  halfway  open  for  them,  and  literature  became 
the  ground  where  they  fought  their  battles. 

A  score  of  years  later,  the  same  was  true  about  the 
Narodniki  and  Marxists.  What  divided  these  factions 
was  their  conception  of  Russia's  economic  future.  The 
Narodniki  thought  industrialism  a  foreign  growthjncom- 
patible  with  the  foundations  of  Russian  economic  life. 
In  the  communal  ownership  of  land  as  it  existed  in  the 
peasant  communities,  the  Narodniki  saw  the  nucleus  of 
a  better  social  order.  The  peasants  were  in  their  eyes 
the  half-conscious  bearers  of  a  socialist  ideal,  which  only 
the  pressure  of  bureaucracy  prevented  from  reorganizing 
society  on  the  basis  of  equality  and  freedom.  Hence 
the  great  reverence  of  the  Narodniki  for  the  peasant  life 


6  GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

and  habits,  for  peasant  ideology.  The  Marxists,  on  the 
contrary,  thought  industrialization  of  Russia  unavoidable, 
and  the  villages  were  in  their  eyes  so  many  nests  of  an- 
cient prejudices  and  social  reaction.  The  center  of 
gravity  was  put  by  the  Marxists  in  the  industrial  workers 
as  a  coming  revolutionary  force.  All  this  had  little  to 
do  with  literature,  yet  for  a  quarter  of  a  century  the 
ideal  of  the  Narodniki,  their  hopes  and  queries  could 
find  only  literary  expression.  The  few  enthusiasts  who 
early  in  the  seventies  tried  to  approach  the  peasants  with 
social  propaganda,  were  soon  imprisoned,  and  nothing 
remained  for  the  Narodnik  but  to  study  peasant  life  and 
to  put  his  dream  of  a  bright  future  in  literary  images. 

Literature  was  the  only  refuge  of  the  Russian  mind, 
the  only  safety  isle  to  avoid  stagnation.  All  that  was 
deepest  in  the  soul  of  our  spiritual  leaders  rushed  to 
literature  and  literary  criticism  to  find  realization. 

We  resembled  a  strange  order  in  the  midst  of  the 
atrocities  of  Russian  life.  We  gratified  our  social  in- 
stinct by  reading  descriptions  of  the  people's  life.  We 
satisfied  our  desire  for  political  action  by  discussing  the 
various  types  of  Narodniki,  Socialists,  bureaucrats, 
capitalists,  workingmen,  which  were  presented  in  our 
literature.  It  was  almost  a  civic  duty  for  any  member 
of  the  intelligentzia  to  have  read  the  latest  sketch  of 
Uspensky  or  VeresayevJ  the  stories  of  Korolenko,  the 
poems  of  Yakubovitch.  This  is  why  our  writers  were  so 
eager  to  describe  all  the  most  novel  occurrences  in  our 
social  life.  This  is  why  they  always  had  their  ears  close 
to  the  ground  to  perceive  the  faintest  sound  the  very 
moment  it  was  born. 

3.  Literature  of  this  period  is  a  very  serious  occupa- 
tion, almost  a  civic  service.    A  writer  is  not  supposed  to 


GENERAL  SURVEY  7 

tell  a  story  for  the  story's  sake.  The  aim  of  literature 
is  not  to  be  pleasing,  but  to  touch  the  most  important 
moments  in  the  life  of  the  individual  as  well  as  in  the 
life  of  society  or  humanity.  ;  A  writer  is  a  friend,  a 
teacher  and  a  leader.  It  is,  of  course,  taken  for  granted 
that  a  writer  must  have  talent,  else  he  would  not  be 
able  to  impress  his  readers.  Talent  alone,  however,  is 
not  sufficient.  \[  Generally  speaking,  the  author  is  sup- 
posed to  do  one  of  three  things:  toJLuoaden  the  social 
vision  of  _the  public  by  picturing  social  injustices  and  by 
hglding.  _out  the  ideal  of  a_.hetter  social  j^rder^though 
this  ideal  may  not  always  be  clear — (pictures  of  family 
life,  of  relations  between  the  sexes,  between  fathers  and 
children,  all  treated  from  a  social  viewpoint,  would  also 
come  under  this  head  ){l  to  deepen  the  spiritual  lifejjf 
the  readers  by  giying^descriptions  of  psychological  prob- 
lems,  of  mental  strife,  of  philosophical,  metaphysical, 
ethical,  or  esthetic  gropings fbto  makeiJie  Russians  better 
acquainted  with  thejr_  i B.^T\m^J^^escribmg  ^social 
phenomena  ..little  known  to.  iiie^iblicJi such  as-the.  .life, 
of„the  Siberian  miners,  the  life  of  the  marines,  the  life 
of  fishermen,  the  life  of  the  half-civilized  inhabitants  of 
the  border-provinces,  the  life  of  religious  sects  repudiat- 
ing the  official  church,;  etc.  Such  descriptions  may  not 
be  animated  by  an  ideal,  yet  they  are  taken  as  something 
useful  in  Russian  cultural  life.  Writings  that  do  not 
serve  one  of  these  purposes  are  hardly  considered  worth 
while  reading.  Literature  is  a  means  of  keeping  the 
mind  and  the  soul  awake  to  the  important  problems  of 
existence.  Accordingly,  the  author  occupies  a  high  posi- 
tion, perhaps  the  highest  and  most  respected,  in  the 
esteem  of  his  contemporaries.  The  attitude  towards 
literature  is  a  serious  one,  almost  excluding  the  aspect 


8         GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

of  amusement.  Literature  may  give  joy,  suffering  or 
rapture,  but  it  certainly  is  not  the  aim  of  literature  to 
give  pleasure. 

4.  Throughout  the  literature  of  this  period  sounds  the 
voice  of  a  sick  conscience.  Russian  writers  think  them- 
selves partly  responsible  for  the  miserable  conditions  of 
the  people.  This  was  a  direct  outcome  of  the  isolated 
position  into  which  the  intelligentzia  was  forced  by  auto- 
cratic rule.  The  sons  of  the  noblemen  were,  certainly, 
uncomfortable  in  their  cultural  solitude.  The  intellectual 
raznotchinetz  could  not  be  happy  with  his  modern  educa- 
tion which  elevated  him  above  the  masses.  The  writers 
of  aristocratic  origin  indulged  in  gloomy  moods  deploring 
their  great  unredeemed  debt  to  the  people.  The  writers 
of  the  raznotchinetz  type  were,  perhaps,  gloomier  because 
they  felt  more  keenly  the  chaos  and  humiliating  baseness 
of  Russian  life.  All  of  them  were  fully  aware  of  the  fact 
that  no  changes  could  be  undertaken  before  they  found 
a  way  to  the  minds  of  the  masses.  This  way,  however, 
was  hidden  in  the  mists  of  the  future.  There  was  no 
bridge  over  the  gulf  dividing  the  intelligentzia  and  the 
people. 

Only  a  few  writers,  notably  Foeth  and  Alexey  Tolstoi, 
were  free  from  this  typical  Russian  gloom,  and  this  is 
one  of  the  reasons  why  they  never  succeeded  in  becom- 
ing leaders  of  intellectual  Russia.  They  were  too  much 
out  of  tone  with  the  prevailing  motives. 

5.  Russian  literature  is  moved  by  a  keen  desire  to 
understand  the  character  of  the  nation.  Up  to  Pushkin, 
hardly  any  writer  tried  to  describe  the  Russian  people 
and  Russian  conditions  as  they  were.  The  task  confront- 
ing our  literature  in  the  nineteenth  century  is  enormous. 
For  the  first  time  in  history,  the  jKriters  have  to  sketch 


GENERAL  SURVEY  9 

the  fundamentals  of  the  Russian  character,  the  essential 
feaXure^s^J^heJ^sdan ...soul.  True  it  is  that  literatures 
of  all  periods  and  all  nations  depict  the  characters  of 
the  respective  nations.  Yet  one  thing  it  is  to  record  new 
types  in  a  country  where  life  had  been  mirrored  by  litera- 
ture for  generations,  and  another  to  outline  the  features 
of  a  great  nation  for  the  first  time,  with  hardly  any  liter- 
ary traditions  in  the  past.  The  latter  is  the  situation  in 
Russia,  especially  in  the  first  three  quarters  of  the  nine- 
teenth century.  Many  Russian  writers  are  practically 
discoverers  of  new  realms:  Aksakov  discovers  patriarchal 
Russia  under  serfdom,  Gogol  discovers  the  discrepancies 
of  a  decaying  feudal  system,  Ostrovsky  introduces  the 
Russian  middle-class,  Turgenev  discovers  a  human  being 
in  the  peasant,  Lyeskov  sketches  for  the  first  time  the 
Russian  clergy  and  the  simple  faith  of  the  masses,  Kol- 
tzov  is  himself  a  revelation  of  the  people's  spirit,  Gon- 
tcharov  depicts  the  national  traits  of  inertia  in  Oblomov; 
all  of  them  are  discovering  the  beauty  of  the  Russian 
landscape,  the  inherent  intelligence  of  the  plain  people, 
the  mysticism  at  the  bottom  of  the  Russian  soul.  Every- 
thing is  novel  in  Russia;  everything  is  eagerly  read  and 
commented  upon.  It  is  only  natural  that  the  writers  de- 
velop a  keen  interest  for  all  such  observations.  Litera- 
ture is  scrutinizing  the  Russian  nation  from  every  angle. 
Literature  makes  Russia  aware  of  herself  as  a  nation,  at 
least  in  the  mind  of  her  thinking  elements. 

6.  Particular  attention  is  given  the  peasantry.  Scru- 
tiny of  the  village  and  contemplation  over  the  fate  of 
the  agricultural  worker  are  common  to  the  writers  of  all 
camps  and  factions,  Slavophil  or  Westerner,  nobleman  or 
raznotchinetz.  Gogol  writes  tales  of  the  Ukrainian  pea- 
pie  with  an  amazing  gaiety  of  color  and  humorous  fond- 


io       GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

ness.  Turgenev  portrays  a  number  of  peasant  types  in 
a  tone  of  lofty  artistic  composure.  Nekrasov  writes  of 
the  peasants'  sufferings  with  tears  and  seething  compas- 
sion. Uspensky  tries  to  be  a  calm  inquisitive  observer 
interested  primarily  in  facts  though  his  brain  is  con- 
stantly aflame.  Reshetnikov  made  the  reader  shiver 
with  fear  at  the  sight  of  the  dreadful  savagery  of  the 
people.  All  these  writers,  varying  in  talent  and  in  social 
conceptions,  are  united  by  their  profound  interest  in  the 
life  of  the  peasants,  by  their  insatiable  desire  to  solve 
the  mystery  of  the  great  sphinx, — the  Russian  masses. 

This  is  not  mere  artistic  curiosity.  Neither  is  it  a  feel- 
ing of  charitable  pity  for  the  poor.  Back  of  it  all  is 
the  consciousness  of  the  fact  that  the  peasant  is  the 
cornerstone  of  Russian  Hie.,  that  all ..work  of  reconstruct- 
ing Rus^iajnjiisJLbegiriJrom  below-  The  object  of  all  this 
interest,  the  ja^i^^wasjiaj^dlyi^^ar^jofjhe  intellectual 
attempts  at  in terpre.ting_his  very. essence, ...  He  continued 
to  lead  his  obscure  routine  life.  He  seldom  stirred.  He 
never  protested.  He  was  like  a  drop  in  a  black  sea  under 
a  heavy  sky.  He  was  not  conscious  of  his  power.  Yet 
all  those  gentlemen  who  stretched  at  him  their  artistic 
feelers,  had  a  distinct  premonition  that  some  day  the 
black  sea  would  begin  to  heave  and  rage  and  storm  and 
break  its  chains.  Hence  the  feeling  of  awe  that  the  Rus- 
sian sphinx  inspired  in  all  the  writers. 

7.  Life  in  Russia  through  all  this. period  is  in  a  state 
ofj}rjgmic jleyelopment.  No  violent  changes  are  taking 
place.  No  great  social  catastrophes  shake  the  body  of 
the  nation, — up  to  the  famine  of  1891.  What  is  annoy- 
ingJn.RusMa.is  the  slowness  of  all  processes.  Misery  and 
poverty  are  increasing  in  the  rural  districts,  to  be  sure, 
but  even  these  threatening  symptoms  are  accumulating 


GENERAL  SURVEY  n 

gradually,  with  the  steady  and  slow  progress  of  a  glacier. 
Accordingly,  Russian  literature  is  slow  in  manner  and 
style.  Compared  with  the  modern  way  of  writing,  many 
of  the  older  authors  such  as  Grigorovitch,  Zlatovratsky, 
Pisemsky,  Uspensky,  seem  very  tedious.  They  are  pains- 
takingly recording  every  detail.  They  go  into  lengthy 
descriptions  of  nature,  often  occupying  several  pages. 
They  stop  to  reason  over  life  in  general,  over  the  fate  of 
their  heroes,  over  the  destinies  of  their  native  land.  They 
proceed  in  their  narrative  with  utter  deliberation. 

This,  of  course,  is  not  applicable  to  such  brilliant  writ- 
ers as  Gogol  or  Turgenev  or  Nekrasov.  Yet  even  in  the 
best  works  of  this  period  we  notice  a  preponderance  of 
matter  over  form,  of  contents  over  construction.  As  a 
rule,  Russian  writersjdo.  not  construct  their^works  care-, 
fully.  They  are  hardly  con£prnpH  nvpr  a  pint  They  are 
not  very  fastidious  as  to  the  choice  of  expressions.  What 
is  their  real  interest  and  what  gives  their  work  a  peculiar 
value  is  the  palpitation  of  actual  lifer  the  soaring -oi-the 
spirit,  the  sincerity._oX,  a  Jmjn^_£Qul_speakin.g  -directly 
and  freely.  Literary  productions  called  by  their  authors 
a  story  or  a  novel  are  quite  often  neither  one  nor_fche 
other.  They  are  just  a  morsel  qfjreal  life,  an  illuminat- 
ing episode,  a  study  in  human  character,  or  a  string 
of  such  episodes  and  studies  loosely  connected.  The  Rus- 
sian reader  and  the  Russian  critic  were  looking  for  the 
truthfulness  and  spiritual  depth  of  a  work  rather  than 
for  its  external  perfection. 

8.  In  a  country  where  literature  takes  the  place  of 
life,  the  critic  takes  the  place  of  a  leader.  From  the 
forties  to  the  nineties,  Byelinsky,  Chernyshevsky,  Dobro- 
lyubov,  Pisarev,  Mikhaylovsky  follow  one  another  in  a 
splendid  succession,  exerting  an  amazing  influence  over 


12        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE       ' 

the  minds  of  their  generation.  What  they  do  cannot  be 
called  pure  criticism.  Even  the  most  artistic  of  the  group, 
Byelinsky,  considered  literary  criticism  a  means  to  raise 
the  nation  to  a  higher  level  of  social  and  cultural  life. 
The  others  use  the  works  of  art  as  a  basis  for  discourses 
over  philosophical,  sociological,  or  political  topics.  From 
a  character  or  an  incident  given  by  an  author  they  pro- 
ceed to  the  social  background  and  to  the  causes  of  the 
existing  evils.  This  procedure  brings  within  their  scope 
all  the  important  problems  of  their  time.  They  are  not 
mere  critics,  they  are  teachers,  propagandists,  prophets 
of  a  new  order.  Their  work  is  ordinarily  connected  with 
the  editing  of  progressive  monthlies. 

9.  The  literary  language  remains  almost  uniform 
throughout  the  entire  period.  Aside  from  individual 
deviations,  nearly  all  writers  use  the  same  literary  ap- 
paratus. Pushkin's  language  is  dominant  in  poetry,  and 
the  subsequent  works  of  Nekrasov,  Alexey  Tolstoi,  or 
Nadson  are,  perhaps,  even  a  step  backward.  Foeth  and 
Tyutchev  are  using  a  very  refined  and  subtle  language, 
but  they  are  outside  of  the  general  run  and  seem  to 
have  little  influence  on  their  colleagues.  Turgenev's 
manner  is  dominant  in  prose  writing,  but  there  seems  to 
be  no  worship  of  the  language,  no  effort  at  stretching  it 
or  making  it  more  colorful.  Here  as  in  many  other  re- 
spects, the  writers  are  more  interested  in  what  they  have 
to  say  than  in  the  way  they  say  it.  The  language  is 
taken  for  granted.  Rhythm  and  music  and  a  certain 
beauty  are  almost  common  property.  This  accounted  for 
lucidity,  simplicity,  chastity  and  honesty  of  expression, 
yet  reform  work  in  this  realm  became  imminent. 

All  this  changes  towards  the  beginning  of  the  nineties. 
Social  and  cultural  progress  initiated  by  the  abolition  of 


GENERAL  SURVEY  13 

serfdom  and  facilitated  by  subsequent  industrial  develop- 
ment, brought  about  new  literary  schools.  The  modernist 
with  his  gospel  of  beauty,  his  lack  of  interest  for  social 
problems,  and  his  strong  inclination  towards  a  mystical 
conception  of  life,  makes  his  appearance,  and  within  a 
short  time  becomes  one  of  the  dominant  factors.  On  the 
other  hand,  new  waves  of  social  energy,  hardly  percep- 
tible at  the  outset,  make  the  ground  vibrate.  Unrest 
spreads.  Social  forces  are  growing.  The  country  is  in 
the  grip  of  a  revolution.  Russian  literature  responds.  It 
is  saturated  with  new  color.  It  breathes  unrest.  It  ex- 
pands. It  becomes  infinitely  more  abundant  in  motives, 
forms,  observations,  ideas.  Thus  the  great  trunk  of  Rus- 
sian literature  of  the  nineteenth  century  branches  off 
into  two  main  boughs.  These  will  form  the  subject  of 
the  second  and  the  third  divisions  of  the  present  work. 


A.  S.  PUSHKIN  (i 799-1837) 

Poet.    One  of  the  great  national  classic  writers. 

Pushkin  created  the  modern  Russian  poetic  language. 
He  freed  it  from  dead  hyperbolism  and  false  solemnity; 
he  brought  it  closer  to  the  living  language  of  the  people, 
and  gave  it  sincerity,  dignity,  flexibility,  and jagon, 

Pushkin  is  the  first  Russian  poeMxTexpress  in  simple 
and  truthful  words  the  soul  of  a  Russian.  "  The  sub- 
stance and  qualities  of  his  poetry,"  said  Turgenev,  "  coin- 
cided with  the  substance  and  qualities  of  the  Russian 
nation."  Pushkin  gave  utterance  to  such  emotions  and 
moods  as  constituted  the  best  traits  of  the  Russian  char- 
acter. He  thus  fulfilled  a  great  desire  for  self-expression 
dormant  in  a  great  people.  Russia  instantly  recognized 
in  Pushkin  her  own  and  loved  him  as  people  love  their 
soil,  their  nature,  the  house  of  their  parents.  Pushkin's 
influence  on  the  following  generations  is  incalculable. 
Not  one  Russian  possessing  the  knowledge  of  reading  has 
failed  to  learn  from  Pushkin  beautiful  and  inspiring 
things. 

Pushkin  is  firm  and  tender.  The  joy  of  living  per- 
meates his  musical  lines,  and  their  reading  is  a  strange 
solace  even  when  they  touch  the  dark  aspects  of  exist- 
ence. There  is  clarity,  serenity,  balance  in  his  poems; 
they  give  the  impression  of  a  clear  autumn  sky  over 
a  country  rich  with  fruit  and  seeds.  Life  is  sparkling 
in  his  songs,  ballads,  and  verbal  paintings;  there  is  often 
pain  and  sadness  and  a  longing  for  unmitigated  freedom 
in  his  melodies;  at  times  he  is  bitter,  full  of  indignation 

14 


A.  S.  PUSHKIN  15 

and  stinging  mockery;  yet  his  faith  in  man  is  never 
diminished,  and  the  undertone  of  all  his  poetry  is  a 
restrained  gladness  of  the  soul  in  intimate  contact  with 
the  destinies  of  human  beings,  the  life  of  humanity,  and 
nature. 

Pushkin  is  not  only  a  lyrical  poet,  though  the  lyrical 
element  permeates  most  of  his  poetic  creations.  He  wrote 
a  series  of  epic  works  unmatched  in  Russian  literature. 
His  numerous  fantastic  poems  use  the  material  of  fairy- 
tales current  among  the  plain  people.  His  poetic  tales 
exceed  in  simplicity  and  national  color  even  the  original 
productions  of  folklore.  In  a  number  of  dramatic  pro- 
ductions and  fragments  he  manifested  a  dramatist's  talent 
equal  to  the  best.  His  prose  stories  are  marked  by  a 
simplicity,  lucidity,  and  charm  undreamed  of  before, 
and  they  open  a  new  era  in  the  history  of  Russian 
prose. 

All  of  Pushkin's  writings  bear  the  stamp  of  a  rich 
personality.  Pushkin  is  unusually  clever,  sharp,  and 
witty.  At  the  same  time  he  is  deeply  earnest.  Under- 
neath his  frivolity  which  is  only  the  play  of  overabundant 
creative  power,  there  is  a  foundation  of  thought.  And 
whatever  Pushkin  writes  is  brilliant. 

Not  one  of  the  Russian  classic  writers  has  been  studied 
so  lovingly  and  with  so  much  care  as  Pushkin.  Push- 
kinism  has  become  an  important  science  occupying  an 
honorable  place  side  by  side  with  other  branches  of  his- 
tory.   The  literature  on  Pushkin  is  enormous. 

"  When  you  pronounce  the  name  of  Pushkin  you  invariably 
think  of  a  Russian  national  poet.  He  possesses  all  the  rich- 
ness, the  power,  and  the  flexibility  of  our  language.  He,  more 
than  anybody,  widened  the  boundaries  of  the  language  and 
showed  its  entire  scope.    Pushkin  is  an  extraordinary  phenome- 


16        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

non,  perhaps  the  most  unique  phenomenon  in  the  history 
of  the  Russian  spirit:  he  is  the  Russian  man  in  the  process 
of  development,  as  he  will  be,  say,  two  hundred  years  from 
now.  Russian  nature,  Russian  soul,  Russian  character,  Rus- 
sian language  have  been  reflected  through  him  with  such  pur- 
ity, in  such  purified  beauty,  as  a  landscape  is  reflected  on  the 
convexed  surface  of  an  optic  glass." 

N.  V.  Gogol. 

"  Pushkin's  main  contribution  to  Russian  literature  con- 
sisted in  putting  poetry  on  a  high  level  of  independence.  He 
freed  poetry  from  its  former  subsidiary  role  as  a  means  of 
propaganda  or  a  pretty  pastime.  He  made  poetry  the  highest 
activity  of  the  human  spirit.  This  activity,  in  his  opinion, 
ought  to  be  unrestricted.  He,  therefore,  proclaimed  the  right 
of  human  personality  to  be  free.  From  the  very  first  words  of 
his  poetic  creations,  he  unequivocally  declared  himself  a  cham- 
pion of  freedom. 

"  His  creative  activities  were  not  a  result  of  reason  and  logic, 
however,  but  of  a  poetic  imagination.  He  brought  into  poetry 
a  wealth  of  live  impressions.  This  is  why  his  pictures  and 
moods  are  so  infinitely  varied.  Still,  hand  in  hand  with  imagi- 
nation, works  his  conscious  thought. 

"...  Pushkin's  poetry  is  the  history  of  a  lofty  ideal  which 
seeks  for  light,  for  sincere  feeling,  and  for  freedom/  f  1 1  wish  /- 
to  live  that  I  may  think  and  suffer,*))the  poet  saioV^ 

"  The  unusual  wealth  of  his  poetic  pictures  was  a  revelation. 
He  widened  the  horizon  of  Russian  poetry  beyond  national 
boundaries.    He  made  it  universal." 

A.  N.  Pypin. 

"  Pushkin  is  the  echo  of  the  world,  an  obedient  and  melodious 
echo  which  moves  from  realm  to  realm,  passionately  respond- 
ing to  everything  so  that  no  one  significant  tone  in  the  life  of 
the  universe  may  vanish  without  leaving  a  trace.  There  is 
something  fundamentally  human  in  this  ability  to  respond,  in 
this  gift  of  musical  answers  to  all  living  voices,  as  nobody 
ought  to  limit  himself  to  a  definite  set  of  impressions,  and 
the  universe  ought  to  exist  as  a  whole  for  every  one  of  us. 


A.  S.  PUSHKIN  17 

Yet  there  is  something  inherently  poetic  in  these  qualities  of 
Pushkin's.  .  .  .  There  was  such  a  limitless  amount  of  beauty 
in  his  own  soul  that  it  could  find  relief,  consonance,  and 
inner  rhyme  only  in  the  variety  of  nature  and  in  the  bound- 
lessness of  human  existence.  His  all-responding  soul  was  like 
a  many-stringed  instrument,  and  the  universe  playing  on  this 
Aeolian  harp  extracted  from  it  the  most  marvelous  songs. 
Pushkin,  the  great  Pan  of  poetry,  listened  eagerly  to  the  call 
of  the  sky,  the  earth,  the  throbbing  of  the  heart.  ...  A  giant 
of  the  spirit,  full  of  burning  curiosity,  full  of  restlessness  and 
sounds,  Pushkin  embraces  all,  sees  and  hears  everything.  The 
soul  is  indivisible  and  eternal,  he  said,  and  he  proved  it  by  his 
own  example.  Without  boundaries  or  limits,  knowing  no  dis- 
tance or  past,  always  in  the  present,  everywhere  alive,  a  con- 
temporary of  everything,  he  moves,  above  space  and  above 
time,  from  land  to  land,  from  age  to  age,  and  nothing  is  alien  or 
foreign  to  him."  J.  Eichenwald. 

I.   Lyrical    Poems.      (From    approximately    1820    to 

1837.) 
"  In  his  charming  anthology  of  short  poems,  Pushkin  is  still 
more  versatile  and  broader  in  scope  than  in  his  epics.  Some  of 
his  smaller  productions  are  of  a  dazzling  brilliance.  Here  is 
everything:  enjoyment,  simplicity,  an  instant  elevation  of 
thought  which  gives  the  reader  a  thrill  of  inspiration.  There 
is  no  eloquence  here,  only  pure  poetry;  there  is  no  outward 
luster,  no  elaboration,  no  perplexing  form,  but  there  is  inner 
light  which  reveals  itself  gradually.  The  poems  are  laconic  as 
pure  poetry  ought  to  be,  but  they  are  full  of  meaning,  they 
signify  everything.  There  is  a  world  of  space  in  every  word; 
every  word  is  boundless  as  the  poet  himself." 

N.  V.  Gogol. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  almost  every  poem  of  Push- 
kin's has  been  studied  in  the  schools  and  is  known  to 
every  educated  Russian.  No  classic  poet  has  been, 
through  many  generations,  so  close  as  Pushkin  to  the 
heart  of  his  nation.    We  have  all  learned  to  love  Russian 


18        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

nature  and  the  best  elements  in  the  past  and  present  of 
Russia  through  Pushkin's  poems. 

2.   Evgeny  One  gin.    A  novel  in  verse.    (182  5- 183  2.) 

Being  the  sad  love-story  of  Onegin  and  Tatyana,  the 
novel  is  a  broad  picture  of  Russian  life  early  in  the  nine- 
teenth century.  It  contains  a  number  of  Russian  char- 
acters drawn  with  a  master  hand.  Its  pictures  of  Russian 
nature  are,  perhaps,  the  most  mature  in  Pushkin's  work. 
What  gives  it  particular  value,  however,  is  a  reflection  of 
the  spiritual  life  of  Russian  educated  groups  which,  at 
that  time,  were  entirely  of  the  landed  nobility.  Evgeny 
Onegin  is  fundamentally  a  novel  of  the  intelligentzia,  the 
first  of  its  kind.  The  tragedy  of  Onegin,  the  main  hero, 
is  far  more  than  personal. 

"  Onegin  heads  the  long  row  of  Russian  intellectual  wan- 
derers. A  stranger  to  his  surroundings,  free  from  the  ties  of 
public  service  or  family  relations,  wandering  gloomily  over  his 
country  without  aim  and  without  work,  he  has  preserved  a 
living  soul.  He  is  not  a  hero,  the  author  did  not  idealize  him; 
he  is  only  a  clever  and  good-hearted  Russian,  a  representative 
of  the  intelligentzia  of  his  time,  who  found  no  place  and  no 
work  under  conditions  as  they  then  existed. 

"  In  Tatyana  Pushkin  showed  with  marvelous  skill  what 
treasures  of  the  human  heart  and  intelligence,  what  untouched 
spiritual  powers  could  lie  hidden  in  darkness  and  cold,  under 
the  suffocating  atmosphere  of  philistine  life,  waiting  for  a  bet- 
ter time  when  the  first  ray  of  light  and  the  first  breath  of 
fresh  air  would  call  them  to  life  and  allow  them  to  unfold." 

D.  N.  OVSYANIKO-KULIKOVSKY. 

3.   Poltava.    An  epic  poem.     (1829.) 

Events  are  centered  around  the  Battle  of  Poltava 
1709).  The  main  figures  are  Peter  the  Great;  Mazeppa, 
the  Ukrainian  Hetman;  Maria,  the  beautiful  Ukrainian 


A.  S.  PUSHKIN  19 

maiden.  The  pictures  of  Ukrainian  nature  and  of  the 
Battle  of  Poltava  belong  to  the  best  of  Pushkin's  crea- 
tions. Poltava  is,  perhaps,  the  ripest  and  most  perfect 
of  all  his  works. 

"  The  pathos  [of  Poltava]  is  turned  towards  a  colossal 
subject.  We  see  Peter  and  the  Battle  of  Poltava.  The  picture 
of  the  battle  is  drawn  with  a  broad  and  daring  brush;  it  is 
full  of  life  and  motion:  a  painter  could  copy  it  as  he  copies 
nature.  The  appearance  of  Peter  in  the  midst  of  this  picture, 
an  appearance  represented  in  flaming  colors  which  make  your 
hair  stand  upright  on  your  head,  gives  you  an  impression  of 
being  present  at  a  great  religious  mystery;  as  if  some  unknown 
God,  in  rays  of  glory  unbearable  to  mortal  eyes,  were  passing 
before  us  surrounded  by  lightning  and  thunder." 

V.  G.  Byelinsky. 

Russians  learned  to  appreciate  Peter  the  Great  through 
Pushkin's  Poltava  more  than  through  all  the  textbooks 
of  history. 

4.  Boris  Godounov.  A  historical  drama  in  verse. 
(1830.) 

The  first  historical  drama  of  a  realistic  nature  in  Rus- 
sian literature.  The  main  figure  is  the  Tzar  Boris  Godou- 
nov (1605)  ascending  the  throne  over  the  dead  body  of 
the  legitimate  heir  whom  he  caused  to  be  murdered. 
Godounov's  tragedy  is  the  discrepancy  between  outward 
happiness  and  inner  consciousness  of  guilt.  The  hand  of 
a  Nemesis  is  suspended  over  all  his  deeds.  Worse  is  the 
Nemesis  intrenched  in  his  own  soul. 

A  group  of  other  historic  figures  very  well  drawn  fill 
the  drama  with  life  and  action. 

"Boris  Godounov  is  all  permeated  with  Russian  history. 
The  poet  condensed  it;   he  extracted  it  lovingly  from  old 


20        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

documents  and  chronicles  and  transformed  it  into  living 
figures.  On  the  very  words,  grave  and  earnest,  on  their  choice 
and  arrangement,  our  national  past  and  its  spirit  are  stamped; 
they  are  hidden  in  the  very  folds  of  the  play  notwithstanding 
its  Shakespearean  manner.  When  you  read  Boris  Godounov 
you  see  history  in  action,  you  feel  its  vibration. 

"  Yet,  the  individual,  the  historic,  became  under  Pushkin's 
hand  universal ;  a  human  crime  retained  in  the  annals  of  Rus- 
sian history,  the  poet  represented  not  only  as  an  event  in  Rus- 
sian life,  but  as  a  universal  phenomenon  of  conscience." 

J.  ElCHENWALD. 

5.  The  Copper  Rider.    (1837.) 

A  series  of  poetic  pictures  and  contemplations  con- 
nected with  the  city  of  Petersburg  and  its  founder,  Peter 
the  Great,  whose  copper  statue,  a  powerful  rider  on  a 
wild  prancing  horse,  seemed  to  Pushkin  to  symbolize 
an  entire  epoch  in  Russian  history. 

The  city  of  Petersburg,  rising  in  melancholy  beauty 
from  the  marshes  of  a  dreary  country  on  the  faraway 
Gulf  of  Finland;  its  imposing  structures  combining  bar- 
barous taste  with  western  refinement;  its  river  and  canals 
half  hidden  in  fog;  its  "  white "  summer  nights  when 
dawn  almost  instantly  follows  sunset, — all  the  glory  and 
mystic  charm  and  hopes  for  the  future  are  living  in  this 
series  of  poetic  sketches  centered  around  the  inundation 
of  Petersburg  in  1824.  The  subject,  however,  is  wider. 
The  subject  is  Russia  of  modern  times  assimilating  west- 
ern civilization. 

6.  The  Avaricious  Knight.  Dramatic  fragment.    (1836.) 
Here  Pushkin  leaves  his  time  and  nation  and  carries  us 

back  to  mediaeval  times.  His  subject  is  a  lonely  knight 
devoured  by  the  passion  of  avarice.  The  character  is 
represented  with  marvelous  vigor.    The  Knight's  mono- 


A.  S.  PUSHKIN  21 

logues  are  equal  in  psychological  truth,  color,  and  expres- 
sion to  those  of  the  best  classic  tragedies. 

[Other  works  of  importance:  Ruslan  and  Ludmila,  fan- 
tastic poem ;  Mozart  and  Salieri,  dramatic  fragment ;  The 
Stone  Guest,  dramatic  sketch;  The  Feast  in  Pest  Time;  The 
Water  Fairy;  Tales;  Songs  of  Eastern  Slavs;  The  Captain's 
Daughter,  novelette  in  prose ;  Byelkins  Stories  in  prose ;  Dame 
Pique,  story  in  prose;  and  many  more.  In  fact,  all  of  Push- 
kin's works  available  in  English,  including  his  brilliant  let- 
ters, deserve  to  be  studied.] 


A.  S.  GRIBOYEDOV  (1795-182 9) 

Greboyedov  is  known  as  the  author  of  one  comedy, 
The  Misfortune  of  Reason.  Though  he  wrote  many  other 
works,  they  were  all  of  slight  value  and  would  not  have 
made  his  name  known.  The  Misfortune  of  Reason  put 
him  instantly  into  the  foremost  ranks  of  Russian  writers. 

The  Misfortune  of  Reason,  a  comedy  in  five  acts,  in 
verse,  was  written  between  181 8  and  1823.  It  subse- 
quently underwent  many  revisions,  and  numerous  hand- 
written copies  were  circulating  for  years  among  the  pub- 
lic, arousing  merriment  and  admiration;  many  monologues 
of  the  comedy  became  famous  before  the  work  finally 
appeared  in  print  in  1833. 

Few  works  equal  The  Misfortune  of  Reason  in  its 
influence  on  the  public  mind.  The  comedy  is  a  presenta- 
tion of  the  Russian  nobility  and  higher  bureaucracy 
looked  at  from  the  angle  of  modern  progress.  The  scene 
of  action  is  Moscow,  and  the  characters  are  a  noble  Rus- 
sian bureaucrat,  his  daughter,  his  subordinate,  a  colonel 
of  the  army,  and  many  other  representatives  of  society 
each  with  his  own  peculiar  traits.  The  element  of  pro- 
test and  criticism  is  embodied  in  young  Tchatzky  who  re- 
turns to  Moscow  after  a  few  years  of  absence. 

As  Pushkin  showed  his  people  the  better  elements  of 
the  national  character,  so  Griboyedov  showed  in  a  realistic 
manner  the  dark  side  of  their  life.  He  came,  however, 
not  as  a  preacher  in  solemn  garb;  he  came  as  a  friend 
who  mocks  at  the  infirmities  and  emptiness  of  the  upper 
class.  He  touched  a  very  sensitive  spot,  and  the  response 
was  vast.    We  all  know  Griboyedov's  characters  as  we 

22 


A.  S.  GRIBOYEDOV  23 

know  our  best  friends.  Their  ideas,  the  object  of  their 
interest,  their  past  and  present  are  an  open  book  to  us. 
Their  sayings  have  become  an  integral  part  of  every  in- 
tellectual's vocabulary.  The  various  features  of  their 
characters  we  can  and  do  trace  in  other  types  created  by 
Russian  writers  and,  more  important;  in  actual  life.  It 
is  the  peculiarity  of  The  Misfortune  of  Reason  that  its 
characters  are  undying.  Lven  in  the  twentieth  century 
we  still  find  in  our  public  life  men  and  women  who  can  be 
identified  easily  with  Griboyedov's  heroes.  We  experi- 
ence a  melancholy  satisfaction  in  comparing  their  words 
and  deeds  with  those  of  their  prototypes  in  a  comedy 
written  a  hundred  years  ago. 

The  Misfortune  of  Reason  formed  all  through  the 
nineteenth  and  twentieth  century  an  integral  part  of  the 
Russian  stage  repertoire.  Generation  after  generation 
looked  at  its  production  with  the  same  mirth.  Its  influ- 
ence on  dramatic  literature,  on  the  stage,  on  generations 
of  actors  was  immense. 


"He  [Griboyedov]  loved  the  truth;  he  was  her  champion 
from  his  very  youth;  he  spoke  the  truth  fearlessly,  without 
mercy  to  himself  or  to  others.  Contemporaries  and  witnesses 
admired  the  power  of  his  mind  and  his  devotion  to  the  truth. 
Representatives  of  the  most  divergent  views  agree  in  appre- 
ciating his  personality.  One  is  almost  astonished  that  men 
of  this  kind  could  really  exist. 

"  The  opinions  expressed  by  the  hero  of  the  comedy  are 
quite  unusual  for  his  time.  They  combine  admiration  for 
ancient  Russian  customs  with  a  love  for  European  institutions, 
sympathy  for  the  sound  fundamentals  of  national  life  and 
appreciation  of  modern  progress.  Tchatzky  advocates  higher 
education,  freedom  of  opinions ;  he  is  proud  of  the  new  century 
when  '  a  man  can  breathe  freely.'  This  is  good  Russian  pa- 
triotism on  a  European  basis.'7  A.  Veselovsky. 


24        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

"  Every  word  of  Griboyedov's  comedy  showed  life  in  a 
comical  aspect.  It  impressed  one  with  the  quickness  of  under- 
standing, the  originality  of  expression,  the  poetical  realism  of 
the  characters.  .  .  .  Griboyedov  is  one  of  the  most  powerful 
manifestations  of  the  Russian  spirit." 

V.  G.  Byelinsky. 

"  The  comedy  The  Misfortune  of  Reason  is  both  a  picture 
of  social  customs,  a  gallery  of  living  types,  and  a  scathing, 
deeply  penetrating  satire.  As  a  picture  it  is  undoubtedly  stu- 
pendous. Its  canvas  includes  a  long  period  of  Russian  life, 
from  Catherine  to  Emperor  Nicholas  [the  First].  In  a  group 
of  twenty  persons  is  reflected,  as  a  ray  of  the  sun  in  a  drop 
of  water,  all  of  old  Moscow,  its  pattern,  its  spirit,  its  man- 
ners at  a  certain  historic  moment.  All  is  done  with  an  artistic 
skill,  an  objectivity  and  perfection  equaled  only  by  Pushkin 
and  Gogol.  In  a  picture  which  contains  not  one  blurred  spot, 
not  one  superfluous  stroke,  the  reader  even  now  feels  himself 
at  home,  among  living  persons. 

"  Both  the  general  subject  and  the  details  are  taken  from 
the  Moscow  drawing-rooms  and  transferred  into  the  book  and 
to  the  stage,  all  the  time  retaining  their  freshness  and  peculiar 
Moscow  atmosphere. 

"  The  salt,  the  epigrams,  the  satire,  the  conversational  verse, 
it  seems  to  me,  will  never  die,  nor  will  that  sharp  and  caustic 
Russian  mind  die  which  lives  in  Griboyedov's  lines.  It  is  im- 
possible to  imagine  a  better  language,  more  natural,  more 
simple,  more  close  to  life.  Prose  and  verse  have  here  amalga- 
mated into  an  indivisible  entity  as  if  with  conscious  intention 
that  they  might  be  easier  retained  in  memory  and  circulated 
with  all  the  wit,  humor,  fun,  and  malice  which  the  author  has 
put  into  them." 

A.  I.  GONTCHAROV. 


M.  J.  LERMONTOV  (1814-1841) 

When  we  think  of  Lermontov,  we  see  in  our  minds  a 
huge  mountain-peak  somewhere  in  the  heart  of  the  Cau- 
casus. Eternal  silence  reigns  in  its  clefts  and  gorges.  Its 
mass  of  ice  and  stone  looks  a  picture  of  gloomy  solitude. 
It  seems  to  be  indifferent  to  the  turmoil  of  life.  Still, 
there  is  boiling  lava  deep  in  its  heart.  Time  and  again 
it  shakes  from  the  fury  of  compressed  inner  forces.  On 
its  bare  stony  body  little  trees  with  lacy  foliage  climb 
higher  and  higher;  and  when  the  world  is  in  bloom, 
winds  laden  with  fragrance  blow  on  its  ragged  brow, 
bringing  the  lure  of  distant  lands. 

Such  is  the  poet  Lermontov.  This  is,  perhaps,  why 
he  loved  the  Caucasus  all  his  life. 

He  is  the  most  tragic  of  the  Russian  poets.  From  his 
very  boyhood  he  was  full  of  disdain  for  humanity,  whose 
life  he  thought  shallow,  empty,  and  ugly;  at  the  same 
time,  he  was  irresistibly  attracted  by  this  very  meaning- 
less life.  He  cherished  the  ideal  of  a  demon,  a  proud, 
lonely,  and  powerful  superhuman  creature  challenging 
peaceful  virtues  and  conventional  happiness;  at  the  same 
time  he  was  fiercely  craving  for  mortal  love  and  sun- 
lit human  happiness,  the  absence  of  which  filled  his  heart 
with  pain.  He  had  a  cool  and  strong  intellect,  a  power 
of  analysis  and  criticism  which  revealed  the  futility  of 
endeavor  in  this  world  and  dictated  an  attitude  of  bored 
aloofness;  at  the  same  time  he  was  torn  by  mad  pas- 
sions prompting  him  to  the  most  unreasonable  actions. 
He  was  inclined  to  protest,  to  repudiate,  to  curse,  and 
almost  without  noticing  he  drifted  into  a  prayer  or  saw 

25 


26        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

the  vision  of  an  angel  singing  his  quiet  song  over  "a 
world  of  grief  and  tears."  Altogether  he  is  a  profoundly 
unhappy  nature,  just  the  reverse  of  his  older  brother 
Pushkin. 

If  Pushkin  is  primarily  the  poet  of  the  Russian  soul 
and  Russian  nature,  Lermontov  is  the  first  of  the  great 
Russian  poets  of  the  spirit.  And  if  Pushkin  is  funda- 
mentally national,  acquiring  international  significance 
through  his  closeness  to  his  native  land,  Lermontov  is  of 
universal  value  in  himself  as  expressing  those  doubts  and 
moods  and  gropings  which  are  common  to  all  cultured 
men.  This  did  not  prevent  him  from  being  a  genuine 
Russian  poet.  One  is  even  justified  in  looking  for  a 
connection  between  his  dark  rebellious  moods  and  the 
dark  conditions  of  the  society  in  which  he  lived. 

Lermontov  is  a  self-centered  poet.  "  The  most  char- 
acteristic feature  of  Lermontov's  genius,"  Vladimir  Solov- 
yov  says,  "  is  a  terrific  intensity  of  thought  concentrated 
on  himself,  on  his  ego,  a  terrific  power  of  personal  feel- 
ing." This,  however,  is  no  self-centeredness.  Lermontov 
seeks  refuge  within  himself  because  he  finds  no  values  in 
the  ephemeral  existence  of  the  world.  He  sinks  into 
brooding  moods  not  because  he  finds  in  them  satisfaction, 
but  because  life  does  not  quell  his  thirst  for  harmony  and 
truth.  He  is  at  war  with  society,  with  humanity,  with  the 
universe.  He  is  at  war  even  with  God  in  the  name  of 
some  great  unearthly  beauty  which  only  at  rare  moments 
gives  to  his  soul  her  luminous  forebodings. 

If  Pushkin  is  the  poet  of  all  the  people,  Lermontov  is 
the  poet  of  the  thinking  elements  in  it.  As  such  he  played 
a  colossal  role  in  the  spiritual  history  of  his  country. 
Generation  after  generation  learned  from  him  to  hate 
the  sluggishness  of  Russian  life  and  the  convention  of 


M.  J.  LERMONTOV  27 

every  life,  to  repudiate  compromises,  to  understand  the 
longing  of  the  soul  for  things  non-existent,  and  to  cherish 
freedom  in  the  broad  sense  of  the  word. 

Lermontov's  form  is  in  full  accord  with  his  moods, 
varying  from  the  most  exquisite  tenderness  to  "  verses 
coined  of  iron,  dipped  in  poignancy  and  gall,"  from  slow, 
thoughtful,  and  melancholy  lines  to  volcanic  outbursts  of 
fury.  In  expressing  delicate  shades  of  emotions  and  in 
dignified  refinement  Lermontov  is,  perhaps,  even  superior 
to  Pushkin.  There  is  more  of  the  elusive  quality  in  his 
poems,  that  which  cannot  be  expressed  in  definite  words. 

"  Horrified  by  the  triviality  of  life,  by  its  corruption  and 
helplessness,  Lermontov  sounded  the  motive  of  indignation. 
This  indignation,  so  rare  in  Russia,  utterly  alien  to  Pushkin, 
timidly  sounding  in  the  work  of  Tchatzky,1  unknown  to  Gogol, 
was  something  new  and  unheard  of.  Through  Lermontov's 
indignation,  the  Russian  citizen  for  the  first  time  became 
aware  of  himself  as  a  real  human  being.  The  feeling  of  human 
dignity  was  stronger  in  Lermontov  than  all  other  feelings. 
It  sometimes  assumed  unhealthy  proportions,  it  led  him  to 
satanical  pride,  to  contempt  for  all  his  surroundings.  And  in 
the  name  of  this  human  dignity,  unrecognized  and  down- 
trodden, he  raised  the  voice  of  indignation. 

"  It  appeared  to  him  that  not  only  society,  those  hangmen 
of  freedom  and  genius,  but  also  the  Deity  that  gave  him  life, 
are  making  attempts  on  his  inalienable  rights  as  a  man  and 
are  preventing  him  from  living  a  full,  eternal  life  which  alone 
was  of  value  to  him.  He  saw  no  prospect  of  eternal  life,  no 
fullness  of  existence,  no  love  without  betrayal,  no  passion  with- 
out satiety,  and  he  did  not  wish  to  agree  to  less,  as  a  deposed 
ruler  does  not  wish  to  receive  donations  from  the  hand  of 
the  victor.   .    .    . 

"  Lermontov  is  a  religious  nature,  but  his  religion  is  pri- 
marily a  groping,  an  indefinite,  hazy  admittance  of  life's  tragic 
mystery."  Evg.  Solovyov  (Andreyevitch.). 

1  See  Griboyedov. 


28        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

"  Lermontov  introduced  into  literature  the  struggle  against 
Philistinism.  Not,  perhaps,  till  the  end  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury did  philistinism  meet  a  more  ruthless,  merciless  foe.  His 
aversion  to  philistinism  is  the  key  to  his  entire  conception  of 
life.  His  hatred  for  everything  ordinary  led  him  to  his  out- 
spoken individualism  and  brought  him  near  to  that  real  ro- 
manticism which  was  unknown  in  Russia  before  him.  It  also 
imbued  him  with  that  contempt  for  the  surrounding  world 
which  it  is  customary  to  view  as  Lermontov's  characteristic 
pessimism.  Lermontov,  however,  is  not  only  a  pessimist.  Ler- 
montov believed  that  life  in  itself  could  be  beautiful,  even  at 
present.  It  could  be  beautiful,  and  it  was  all  soiled  under 
philistine  rule, — this  was  for  him  the  tragic  contradiction. 
Hence  his  pessimism,  his  misanthropy,  his  hatred  for  life.  He 
sees  ethical  philistinism  in  all  social  groups,  in  all  society,  in 
humanity  at  large.  From  this  standpoint  he  is  perhaps  the  most 
outspoken  individualist  in  all  Russian  literature." 

Ivanov-Razumnik. 

"  The  leading  motives  of  Lermontov's  charming  and  spar- 
kling poetry  were  a  protest  against  the  restrictions  of  individual 
freedom,  a  detached  attitude  towards  an  oppressing  world, 
and  the  lure  of  another  world  which  though  not  shaped  clearly, 
not  based  on  a  definite  foundation,  is  possessed  of  an  irresistible 
power.  This  luring  world  is  ordinarily  somewhere  in  the  past; 
it  is  a  reminiscence,  not  a  hope ;  at  times  it  is  heaven,  at  times, 
nature,  at  times,  an  idea,  unclear  yet  so  wonderful  that  the 
very  sounds  which  give  an  inkling  of  its  dark  meaning  cannot 
be  listened  to  *  without  emotion/  It  is  this  better  world  which 
gives  real  meaning  to  a  soul  reminiscent  of  it,  and  the  idea  of 
this  world  lives  in  many  of  Lermontov's  heroes. 

"  The  idea  of  something  which  does  not  allow  us  to  accept 
our  world  as  the  best  of  all  worlds,  an  idea  appearing  to  men 
in  the  best  moments  of  their  life  and  stirring  them  to  action 
and  changes,  was  very  strong  in  Lermontov's  mind.  The  cir- 
cumstances of  his  personal  life  and  the  conditions  of  his  time 
might  have  strengthened  his  longing  for  another  world;  funda- 
mentally, however,  this  longing  is  an  inherent  quality  of  man- 
kind, and  through  it,  Lermontov  is  close  not  only  to  his  own 


M.  J.  LERMONTOV  29 

contemporaries,  but  also  to  readers  of  the  present  and  the 
future." 

I.  Ignatov. 

"  What  an  abundance  of  power,  what  a  variety  of  ideas  and 
images,  emotions  and  pictures !  What  a  strong  fusion  of  energy 
and  grace,  depth  and  ease,  elevation  and  simplicity! 

"  Not  a  superfluous  word;  everything  in  its  place;  every- 
thing as  required,  because  everything  had  been  felt  before  it 
was  said,  everything  had  been  seen  before  it  was  put  on  the 
canvas.  His  song  is  free,  without  strain.  It  flows  forth,  here 
as  a  roaring  waterfall,  there  as  a  lucid  stream. 

"  The  quickness  and  variety  of  emotions  are  controlled  by 
the  unity  of  thought;  agitation  and  struggle  of  opposing  ele- 
ments readily  flow  into  one  harmony,  as  the  musical  instru- 
ments in  an  orchestra  join  in  one  harmonious  entity  under 
the  conductor's  baton.  And  all  sparkles  with  original  colors, 
all  is  imbued  with  genuine  creative  thought  and  forms  a  new 
world  similar  to  none." 

V.  G.  Byelinsky. 


1.   Lyrical  poems.     (182  8-1 841.) 

"Invincible  spiritual  power;  subdued  complaints;  the  fra- 
grant incense  of  prayer;  flaming,  stormy  inspiration;  silent 
sadness;  gentle  pensiveness;  cries  of  proud  suffering,  moans 
of  despair;  mysterious  tenderness  of  feeling;  indomitable  out- 
bursts of  daring  desires;  chaste  purity;  infirmities  of  modern 
society;  pictures  from  the  life  of  the  universe;  intoxicating 
lures  of  existence;  pangs  of  conscience;  sweet  remorse;  sobs 
of  passion;  quiet  tears  flowing  in  the  fullness  of  a  heart  that 
has  been  tamed  in  the  storms  of  life;  joy  of  love;  trembling  of 
separation;  gladness  of  meeting;  emotions  of  a  mother;  con- 
tempt for  the  prose  of  life;  mad  thirst  for  ecstasies;  complete- 
ness of  spirit  that  rejoices  over  the  luxuries  of  existence;  burn- 
ing faith;  pains  of  soul's  emptiness;  outcry  of  a  life  that  shuns 
itself;  poison  of  negation;  chill  of  doubt;  struggle  between 
fullness  of  experience  and  destructive  reflection;  angel  fallen 
from  heaven;  proud  demon  and  innocent  child;   impetuous 


3o        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

bacchante  and  pure  maiden, — all,  all  is  contained  in  Lermon- 
tov's  poetry:  heaven  and  earth,  paradise  and  hell.  ..." 

V.  G.  Byelinsky. 

2.  The  Demon.    A  fantastic  poem.     (182  9-1 841.) 
The  Demon,  the  Spirit  of  Evil,  craves  to  free  himself 

from  his  cold  loneliness  and  to  rise  to  heights  of  harmony 
through  love  for  a  mortal,  the  nun  Tamar.  The  scene  is 
set  in  the  Caucasus,  and  the  story  is  full  of  the  mystic 
glow  of  the  Orient. 

The  figure  of  the  Demon  was  the  creation  Lermontov 
loved  most.    He  worked  on  it  practically  all  his  life. 

"Lermontov's  Demon  is  not  a  symbol  of  the  eternal  Evil; 
he  is  not  the  Satan,  he  is  a  proud  spirit,  embittered  and  there- 
fore sowing  evil.  He  lived  a  lonely,  monotonous  life.  He 
spread  evil  without  satisfaction  to  himself.  The  Demon  is  an 
idealist  suffering  from  disappointment.  His  hatred  for  mortals 
is  too  human.  His  love  for  Tamar  suddenly  transforms  him. 
Her  appearance  makes  him  comprehend  the  sanctity  of  '  love, 
the  good,  and  the  beautiful '  which  had  never  been  foreign 
to  his  soul,  but  lay  hidden  in  its  remotest  corners.  A  Demon, 
however,  is  not  destined  for  joy.  Victory  does  not  satisfy 
his  heart,  and  torn  by  despair,  he  goes  to  tear  the  one  he  loves." 

K.  I.  Arabazhin. 

3.  Mtzyri.     (1840.) 

The  poem  of  freedom.  A  Circassian  boy  brought  up  in 
a  monastery  and  ready  to  become  a  monk,  is  lured  by  the 
wild  freedom  of  nature.  On  a  stormy  night  he  runs  away 
from  his  half-voluntary  prison.  For  three  days  he  is 
absent.  On  the  fourth,  he  is  found  in  the  fields  near  the 
monastery.  He  is  exhausted  and  dying.  The  poem 
consists  mainly  of  the  boy's  story.  He  tells  what  he  ex- 
perienced in  his  dash  for  freedom. 

In  Mtzyri,  Lermontov  expressed  one  of  his  strongest 


M.  J.  LERMONTOV  31 

emotions:  his  desire  to  be  free  like  the  wind,  like  the 
eagle  on  top  of  a  mountain,  like  a  powerful  horse  running 
through  the  boundless  steppe.  It  is  the  fullness  of  life 
that  lured  both  Lermontov  and  his  Caucasian  hero. 

4.  Ismael  Bey.    An  epic  poem.     (1832.) 

The  scene  of  action  is  the  Caucasus,  the  fight  of  the 
native  mountain  tribes  against  Russian  aggression.  At- 
tention is  centered  on  IsmaePs  drama. 

"  Ismael  is  endowed  by  nature  with  a  powerful  mind,  a 
strong  will,  and  stormy  passions;  in  a  word,  he  possesses  the 
qualities  of  a  demon  whom  nobody  can  oppose  unpunished. 
He  is  a  son  of  the  mountains,  a  free  child  of  wild  nature  who 
was  early  torn  away  from  his  homeland  and  made  to  taste 
the  fruit  of  civilization.  This  devastated  his  soul.  When  he 
finally  comes  back  to  his  native  mountains,  he  believes  regen- 
eration is  still  possible  for  his  withered  soul.  But  he  is  mis- 
taken, a  civilized  man  cannot  return  to  the  happiness  of  the 
primitive.  Ismael  remains  alone  with  his  hatred  for  the  Rus- 
sians who  swept  the  mountain  ranges  of  his  country  with  iron 
and  fire.    He  is  alone  with  his  gloom  and  regret." 

Nestor  Kotlyarevsky. 

Much  has  been  spoken  about  the  influence  of  Byron 
on  Lermontov's  poetry.  Lermontov  himself  was  aware 
of  a  certain  kinship  of  souls  between  himself  and  Byron. 
Careful  investigators  agree,  however,  that  there  was  only 
a  certain  affinity  of  moods  between  both  poets,  but  that 
Lermontov  never  imitated  Byron. 

5.  Song    of    Tzar    Ivan    Vassilyevitch.      Epic    poem. 

(1838.) 
Lermontov  was  a  singer  of  heroism.    Heroic  moods  and 
heroic  deeds  were  at  the  very  heart  of  his  poetry.    He 


32        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

found  the  heroic  in  his  demon,  in  the  wild  inhabitants  of 
the  Caucasus,  but  he  also  looked  for  heroes  in  the  past 
of  Russia.  The  Song  of  Tzar  Ivan  Vassilyevitch  presents 
a  hero  coming  from  the  rank  of  the  people  and  challeng- 
ing the  authority  of  the  Tzar  even  under  the  threat  of 
death.  The  poem  is  written  in  the  tone  and  in  the  spirit 
of  the  heroic  folk-tales  and  as  such  was  considered  a 
remarkable  contribution  to  Russian  literature. 

[Other  works  of  importance:  Boyar  Orsha;  Maskarade;  The 
Hero  of  Our  Times^] 


A.  V.  KOLTZOV  ( 1 808-1 842) 

A  poet.  He  came  from  the  very  bottom  of  society,  from 
the  house  of  a  poor  merchant,  a  dealer  in  cattle,  wool,  and 
lard.  He  received  no  school  education,  and  spent  all  his 
boyhood  and  even  years  of  maturity  helping  his  father  in 
business.  He  took  a  fancy  early  for  reading,  and  became 
interested  in  poetry.  At  fifteen  he  still  used  to  sing  the 
poems  he  happened  to  find  in  books.  Later  he  began  to 
write  poetry  himself.  Soon  he  attracted  the  attention  of 
Byelinsky  and  his  friends,  who  published  some  of  his 
poems,  but  he  never  succeeded  in  freeing  himself  from 
ugly  surroundings  so  as  to  devote  himself  entirely  to 
literature. 

Koltzov  is  a  strange  phenomenon  of  the  Russian  spirit. 
Without  education,  almost  unlettered,  he  manifests  a 
talent  for  poetry  and  a  sense  of  beauty  which  make  his 
poems  a  valuable  and  unique  contribution  to  Russian 
literature.  His  poems  are  mostly  an  artistic  improvisa- 
tion on  the  themes  of  folk-songs.  No  folk-songs,  how- 
ever, have  been  as  perfect  and  as  musical  as  those  simple, 
unsophisticated,  yet  entirely  charming  imitations.  There 
is  the  freshness  of  primitive  life  in  his  lines,  as  if  a  whole 
country,  forlorn  and  yearning  under  a  pale  sky,  began 
suddenly  to  sing  in  sweet  rhymes  the  chant  of  its  hopes 
and  sorrows.  There  is  the  fragrance  of  genuine  Russia  in 
Koltzov's  poems,  the  Russia  of  vast  steppes,  melancholy 
songs,  dark  forests,  untamed  souls,  and  fundamental  un- 
happiness.    Koltzov's  songs  are  as  subdued,  unassuming, 

33 


34        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

and  chaste  as  the  little  birch-tree  in  the  midst  of  a  Russian 
meadow. 

Poems.     (182  7-1842.) 

"  Koltzov's  poems  are  unique  in  our  literature.  When  you 
read  him  you  have  a  feeling  that  the  ancient  popular  bards 
had  awakened  to  life  in  all  their  power.  More  marvelous  is  it 
that  this  poet  of  the  golden  cornfields  and  vast  steppes  came 
from  an  environment  where  petty  greed  for  money  and  comfort 
deadens  the  feeling  of  beauty." 

V.  V.  Kallash. 

"  Koltzov  is  a  real  artist.  He  saw  the  universe  with  a 
human  eye,  he  saturated  the  universe  with  humanity,  he 
blended  human  life  with  nature.  Everything  is  alive  for  Kol- 
tzov, life  is  everywhere,  joy  is  intertwined  with  sorrow,  light 
and  shadow  flow  into  a  higher  harmony.  His  poetry  is  the 
expression  of  the  pantheist's  feelings;  he  is  always  aware 
of  harmony  diffused  in  nature;  he  bows  before  Divine  Power." 

N.  Brodsky. 

Koltzov's  poems  are  not  many.    He  died  young. 


V.  G.  BYELINSKY  (1811-1848) 

Critic,  publicist,  and  philosopher.    Founder  of  Russian 
literary  criticism. 

The  name  of  Byelinsky  stands  out  as  a  bright  light  in 
the  history  of  Russian  thought.  The  whole  decade  of  the 
forties  is  named  after  Byelinsky.  He  was  a  real  teacher 
of  men  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word.  He  stood  at  the 
very  center  of  the  spiritual  movement  of  his  generation, 
and  his  influence  was  colossal.  He  possessed  broad 
knowledge,  great  talent  as  a  writer,  an  arduous  tempera- 
ment, and  an  extraordinary  charm  of  personality. 

Byelinsky  was  the  first  of  a  series  of  critics  who  blended 
literary  appreciation  with  the  exposition  of  a  philosophical 
theory  and  at  the  same  time  shaped  social  views.  A  man 
with  a  burning  love  for  pure  literature  and  pure  art,  Bye- 
linsky never  satisfied  himself  with  pure  criticism,  but 
strove  always  to  put  a  broader  foundation  under  his 
literary  opinions.  Starting  out  with  the  philosophy  of 
Schelling  and  Fichte,  he  soon  became  an  adherent  of 
Hegel,  and  in  his  essays  attempted  to  interpret  the  teach- 
ings of  his  master.  Nature  and  history  were  to  him  only 
manifestations  of  the  Absolute.  The  spirit,  in  his  opinion, 
was  supreme,  and  real  happiness  could  be  found  only  in 
the  depths  of  a  man's  spirit.  Hegel's  axiom,  "  All  that  is 
real,  is  reasonable,"  he  propounded  in  a  very  eloquent 
manner.  In  nature  he  found  wonderful  harmony,  in  its 
infinite  variety  he  saw  great  unity.  History  to  him  was 
"  a  real  and  reasonable  development  of  the  Divine  Idea." 
He,  therefore,  found  no  cause  for  criticizing  history  or 
striving  to  improve  its  present  course. 

35 


36        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

Soon,  however,  he  abandoned  this  doctrine,  descending 
from  quiescent,  idealistic  heights  to  the  burning  realities 
of  life.  Contact  with  surrounding  conditions  and  more 
mature  thinking  convinced  him  that  not  all  "  existing  " 
was  "  reasonable,"  at  least  not  in  his  native  land.  Con- 
sequently, he  abandons  metaphysics  for  positive  knowl- 
edge; admiration  for  the  world's  harmony  is  superseded 
in  his  works  by  scathing  criticism  of  existing  evils;  in- 
difference to  political  problems  gives  way  to  an  acute 
interest  in  the  political  destinies  of  his  country.  From 
a  pure  idealist  he  becomes  a  realist,  and  this  second 
period  of  his  life  (approximately  nine  years,  1 839-1 847) 
is  the  most  active  and  fruitful. 

In  accordance  with  his  philosophic  and  social  concep- 
tions, his  views  on  literature  and  art  also  underwent  a 
radical  change.  In  his  first  period,  he  preaches  pure  art 
as  an  incarnation  of  beauty,  as  an  expression  of  the  idea 
of  "  nature's  universal  life  "  and  as  a  representation  of 
"  not  the  problems  of  the  day,  but  the  problems  of  ages, 
not  the  interests  of  a  country,  but  the  interests  of  the 
world,  not  the  destiny  of  parties,  but  the  destinies  of 
mankind  ";  in  his  second  period,  he  becomes  more  in- 
clined to  appreciate  literature  that  depicts  actual  life, 
actual  persons,  actual  conditions  even  in  a  naturalistic 
way.  Now,  as  formerly,  he  is  a  champion  of  the  sov- 
ereignty of  art.  He  would  not  like  to  make  art  and 
literature  a  means  of  social  or  political  propaganda.  He 
believes  in  the  freedom  of  the  writer  and  demands  truth- 
fulness above  all.  Still  he  maintains  that  art,  true  and 
independent,  may  have  a  great  social  function.  "  No- 
body, save  the  stupid  and  the  immature,"  he  wrote, 
"  would  demand  that  a  poet  sing  hymns  to  virtue  and 
punish  vice  with  satire;  yet  every  man  of  reason  has  a 


V.  G.  BYELINSKY  37 

right  to  demand  that  the  poet's  poetry  give  answers  to 
the  problems  of  the  day,  or  at  least  that  it  be  saturated 
with  grief  over  those  grave  insoluble  problems." 

Throughout  all  his  changes  Byelinsky  carried  his  high 
enthusiasm  and  his  sincerity.  "  Furious  Vissarion " 
[Vissarion  was  his  first  name]  his  contemporaries  rightly 
called  him.  He  accepted  every  idea,  every  thought,  every 
impression  with  great  animation.  His  style  was  a  white- 
hot  metal  spreading  sparks  and  an  almost  oppressive 
radiance.  Byelinsky  was  possessed  of  real  intellectual 
passion,  and  carried  away  his  readers  in  whatever  direc- 
tion his  genius  was  striving.  In  the  second  period  of  his 
life,  he  exerted  a  greater  influence  on  Russia,  as  he  came 
closer  to  those  problems  which  nobody  could  escape.  In 
a  letter  to  Gogol,  he  thus  voiced  the  demands  of  Russia: 
"  Russia  sees  her  salvation,  not  in  mysticism,  not  in 
asceticism,  not  in  ossified  piety,  but  in  the  progress  of 
civilization,  in  enlightenment,  in  humanitarianism.  She 
needs,  not  preachings  (she  has  had  enough  of  them! ),  not 
prayers  (she  has  prayed  them  long  enough!),  but  the 
awakening  in  the  people  of  a  feeling  of  human  dignity 
lost  for  centuries  in  mire  and  dirt;  she  needs  right  and 
law  in  accordance  with  common  sense  and  justice,  and 
a  rigid  execution  of  the  law.  Instead  of  this,  she  repre- 
sents the  terrible  picture  of  a  country  where  men  sell  and 
buy  men,1  a  country  where  people  do  not  call  themselves 
by  full  name  but  by  derogatory  nicknames,  a  country 
lacking  guarantees  of  personal  dignity  and  property,  and 
governed  by  a  huge  corporation  of  various  robbers  and 
thieves." 

This  high  pressure  of  civic  indignation,  together  with 

1  Under  serfdom,  families  of  peasants  could  be  sold  by  their  mas- 
ters and  transferred  to  new  owners. 


38        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

an  unequaled  love  for  art  and  beauty,  endeared  Byelinsky 
to  Russian  society  and  made  him  a  teacher  not  only  of 
his  contemporaries,  but  of  many  following  generations. 
Time  has  shown  many  of  Byelinsky's  errors  and  shed  a 
clearer  light  on  many  of  his  views.  Yet  his  great  heart, 
his  deep  love,  his  passion  for  the  truth,  his  hatred  for 
oppression,  and  his  adoration  of  harmony  of  life  and  of 
spirit  are  undying  and  still  exert  their  influence  on  mil- 
lions of  Russians. 

"  Byelinsky  represents  the  progress  of  Russian  thought  from 
the  abstract  realms  of  literature,  estheticism,  and  philosophy 
towards  social  problems.  Byelinsky  cherished  the  ideal  of  a 
moral  human  personality,  an  ideal  which  grew  in  our  midst 
after  European  examples  in  the  course  of  an  entire  historic 
epoch;  at  the  same  time,  he  passionately  repudiated  the 
social  ugliness  of  his  time.  His  point  of  view,  his  tempera- 
ment, and  the  trend  of  the  best  contemporary  minds  made  it 
impossible  for  him  to  enjoy  truth,  beauty,  and  a  moral  ideal  in 
a  theoretical  way  only;  he  wished  to  see  the  realization  in  life 
of  what  was  his  deep  conviction  and  the  object  of  his  heart's 
devotion.  This  is  why  he  was  indignant  at  the  sight  of  rotten- 
ness and  meanness  which  he  encountered  everywhere.  He  cer- 
tainly was  a  negator,  and  nobody  ought  to  overlook  or  mini- 
mize this  side  of  his  activities.  Yet  he  was  all  his  life  in  the 
power  of  ideals  which  gave  tone  and  meaning  to  his  negation. 
His  ideals  changed,  to  be  sure,  but  never  in  his  life  was  he 
devoid  of  ideals.  Only  in  the  name  of  an  ideal  did  Byelinsky 
repudiate  first  the  Russian  literature  of  the  preceding  period 
and  then  contemporary  conditions.  To  him  can  justly  be 
applied  the  maxim  that  hatred  is  the  other  side  of  love.  Both 
were  combined  in  his  work,  both  appeared  hand  in  hand. 
And  it  is  due  to  Byelinsky's  ideals  and  their  application  that 
his  influence  was  so  great.  Byelinsky  educated  entire  genera- 
tions not  only  by  his  repudiation  of  the  archaic,  the  back- 
ward, and  the  useless,  but  also  by  elevating  our  minds  and 
souls  to  the  heights  of  a  moral  ideal  which  could  be  formu- 
lated by  every  one  in  accordance  with  his  conception  and  serve 


V.  G.  BYELINSKY  39 

as  a  basis  for  practical  work.  Byelinsky  exerted  a  direct  in- 
fluence on  the  life-giving  soil  and  the  root  of  every  ideal, — 
on  the  human,  moral,  and  spiritual  personality." 

K.  D.  Kavyelin. 

"  If  at  present  Byelinsky's  words  touch  us  more  by  their 
tone  of  conviction  and  by  their  animation  than  by  making  us 
feel  that  we  have  heard  undying  vital  truths;  if  at  the 
mention  of  his  name  we  are  now  stirred  by  emotion  rather 
than  by  restless  thought,  one  ought  not  to  forget  that  there 
was  a  time  when  Byelinsky's  words  were  an  answer  both  to 
the  queries  of  Russian  hearts  and  Russian  minds.  Byelinsky's 
criticisms  were  for  his  time  a  quite  complete  encyclopedia  of 
knowledge.  Byelinksy  was  not  only  a  witness  but  a  judge  of 
an  entire  epoch  in  our  development;  he  lived  it  as  hardly 
any  of  his  contemporaries,  because  nobody  equaled  him  in  the 
ability  to  respond  to  all  the  problems  of  spiritual  and  material 
life  which  at  that  time  had  not  only  to  be  discussed,  but  some- 
times guessed,  conceived,  and  formulated  for  the  first  time. 
Byelinsky's  generation  found  in  his  critical  essays  the  most 
complete  and  many-sided  expression.  His  essays  are  the  most 
important  document  of  an  entire  decade  in  the  history  of  our 
progress.  They  are  a  historic  monument  which  sums  up  the 
flow  of  our  philosophical,  esthetic,  historical,  and  social 
thought  for  many  years;  they  tell  the  history  of  our  self- 
consciousness  in  one  of  the  most  remarkable  moments  in  our 
development;  they  tell  it,  perhaps,  not  always  with  full  ob- 
jectivity, but  sincerely,  completely,  with  a  rare  broadness  and 
depth  of  critical  outlook."  N.  Kotlyarevsky. 

"  Byelinsky  was  not  only  a  man  of  the  highest  nobility  of 
character,  a  great  critic  of  artistic  works  and  a  publicist  highly 
responsive  to  the  problems  of  his  time,  but  he  also  manifested 
a  marvelous  foresight  in  formulating  the  deepest  and  most 
important  problems  of  our  later  social  development." 

G.  V.  Plekhanov. 

1.  On  Gogol's  Stories.    Essay.    (1835.) 

2.  A.  V.  Koltzov.    Essay.    (1835.) 


40        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

3.  Two  Essays  on  Lermontov.    (1840.) 

4.  The  W or ks  oj  Alexander  Pushkin.    Treatise.    (1846.) 

Byelinsky's  manner  of  treatment  is  both  broad  and  de- 
tailed. He  usually  outlines  a  theoretical  foundation  for 
his  views  and  then  proceeds  to  analyze  the  author  from 
this  angle.  His  analysis  is  never  detached.  Byelinsky 
is  either  full  of  admiration  which  he  expresses  in  enthusi- 
astic words,  or  he  is  indignant  and  then  his  speech  is 
still  more  heated.  On  whatever  he  writes,  he  impresses 
his  personality,  and  you  feel  that  for  him  criticizing  was 
not  only  literary  work,  but  a  humanitarian  service  of  the 
highest  rank. 

[The  student  of  Byelinsky's  works  will  be  very  much  inter- 
ested in  his  yearly  Reviews  of  Russian  Literature  for  1840- 
1847,  and  in  his  treatise  on  Russian  Folklore  Poetry.] 


N.  V.  GOGOL  (1809-1852) 

Foremost  Russian  humorist.  A  man  who  wrote  of  him- 
self that  he  described  life  "  through  visible  laughter  and 
invisible  tears,  hidden  from  the  world."  The  discrep- 
ancies, crudeness,  emptiness,  and  meanness  of  provincial 
life  under  the  bureaucratic  regime  is  the  object  of  his 
unrivaled  mockery  which  for  seventy-five  years  has  made 
Russia  tremble  with  delight,  notwithstanding  the  accom- 
panying moral  indignation. 

Gogol's  types  are  undying.  GogoPs  mots  are  a  part  of 
the  Russian  vocabulary.  GogoPs  lyrical  descriptions  of 
Russian  nature,  strangely  intertwined  with  most  cutting 
comical  scenes  and  situations,  are  learned  by  heart  in 
Russian  schools.  In  the  midst  of  life  gloomy  under  a 
load  of  misery,  made  painful  by  unfulfilled  desires,  down- 
trodden under  the  boot  of  a  reckless  ruling  caste,  Gogol 
was  the  mocking  bird  whose  gay  laughter,  flowing  from  a 
loving  heart,  brought  relief  and  comfort. 

Yet,  in  GogoPs  own  heart  there  was  no  gaiety  and  no 
feeling  of  comfort.  Gogol  was  a  dreamer  first,  a  humorist 
second.  He  loved  to  dwell  in  a  romantic  world  where 
everything  is  beautiful,  harmonious,  perfect;  and  he  was 
compelled  by  his  humorous  talent  to  lead  people  into  a 
world  where  everything  is  petty,  trivial,  ugly.  He  longed 
to  picture  men  and  women  of  moral  strength,  virtue  and 
purity,  and  he  saw  about  himself  people  with  crooked 
souls  and  crooked  morals.  Moreover,  he  thought  him- 
self the  prototype  of  all  his  humorous  persons,  and  this 
weighed  heavily  on  his  exalted  religious  spirit.    Torn  by 

41 


42        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

mental  agonies,  he  gave  up  his  realistic  writings,  destroyed 
the  second  part  of  his  Dead  Souls  in  a  vain  hope  to  find 
more  sublime  channels  for  his  creative  work.  In  fight- 
ing against  himself,  he  destroyed  his  marvelous  talent 
and  practically  died  for  Russian  literature  long  before  his 
physical  death. 

Marks  of  these  intense  struggles  are  on  all,  even  the 
most  famous  of  his  works.    Gogol  is  not  an  accuser.    He 
hardly  aimed  at  radical  social  reforms.    He  did  not  blame 
the  political  system,  though  others  used  his  writings  as 
a  splendid  illustration  of  the  viciousness  of   the  old 
regime.    Gogol  himself  was  horror-stricken  at  the  sight 
of  human  infirmities.     His  laughter  was  not  the  result 
of  feeling  morally  superior,  but  a  kind  of  sympathy 
for  the  afflicted.    He  suffered  himself  as  he  laughed.    He 
often  interrupted  his  laughter  with  long  lyrical  outpour- 
ings in  which  he  spoke  of  Russia's  destinies,  of  a  poet's 
task,  or  contemplated  people  in  general.    He  alternated 
between  excruciating  pain  and  wild  enthusiasm,  between 
the  most  minute  scrutiny  of  the  most  trifling  phenomena 
and  a  sweeping  vision  devoid  of  definite  contours  but 
full  of  mysterious  light.    He  loved  his  country  with  an 
intensity  and  adoration  bordering  on  delirium,  and  he 
saw  everywhere  only  devils  making  mischief  in  his  native 
land.    He  was  intolerably  proud  and  intolerably  humble; 
he  made  people  roar  with  mirth,  and  he  was  mortally 
wounded  in  the  grip  of  the  typical  Russian  toska  (melan- 
choly). 

His  style  is,  of  course,  an  expression  of  his  soul.  He  is 
considered  the  first  Russian  realist  (though  Pushkin  de- 
serves this  title  with  more  right),  yet  he  constantly  over- 
steps the  boundaries  of  realism.  He  is  supposed  to 
picture  Russia  as  it  actually  is,  yet  he  is  always  exaggerat- 


N.  V.  GOGOL  43 

ing  in  the  direction  of  the  grotesque,  or  of  the  romantic, 
or  of  the  symbolic.  Such  is  the  intensity  of  his  talent 
that  he  carries  the  reader  completely  in  the  direction  he 
chooses.  The  brightness  of  colors  in  his  pictures  is  over- 
whelming. The  teeming  life  in  even  his  romantic  stories 
is  amazing.  The  clearness  of  lines,  the  variety  of  pattern 
is  unmatched  in  Russian  literature.  There  is  almost  too 
much  movement  and  too  many  voices  in  his  works.  All 
is  drenched  with  an  emotion  which  breathes  into  the 
gayest  pages  the  chill  of  unfathomable  depths. 

As  time  passed,  Gogol  was  appreciated  more  and  more 
in  Russia.  In  the  twentieth  century,  he  is  even  more 
valued,  because  more  understood,  than  he  had  ever  been 
before. 


"  From  his  early  years  Gogol,  more  than  any  other  Russian 
and  even  non-Russian  writer,  conceived  the  delusive  joy,  the 
limitless  power,  the  deadening  poison,  and  the  suicidal  bitter- 
ness of  laughter.  In  his  Author's  Confession  he  tells  us  that 
even  in  his  childhood  and  boyhood  he  experienced  '  fits  of 
mockery '  deriding  all  his  surroundings.  This  is  why  even  in 
his  earliest  creations,  in  those  '  carefree  scenes '  as  he  calls 
them,  we  find  the  intrusion  of  something  terrible,  something 
elementally  funny,  something  demoniacal  into  the  midst  of 
the  most  picturesque  and  even  idyllic  places.  Later,  as  the 
naive  creations  of  his  first  '  carefree  scenes  ,  were  followed 
by  others  more  numerous  and  marked  with  depth  and  perfec- 
tion, they  turned  into  an  entire  world,  an  inimitable  museum 
full  of  little  monsters.  In  this  collection  of  crippled,  deformed, 
and  dwarfed  beings,  in  this  amusing  zoological  garden  which 
speaks  all  languages  of  the  world,  in  this  hospital  in  which 
only  hopelessly  incurable  cases  are  accepted,  in  this  remark- 
able world,  you  would  seek  in  vain  for  even  one  figure  that  is 
not  funny.  And  no  wonder;  is  it  not  laughter  that  called 
them  all  into  being?  " 

Ellis  (pseud.). 


44        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

"  Everybody  sees  evil  in  great  violations  of  the  moral  law, 
in  rare,  unusual  crimes,  in  tragic  catastrophes  of  a  shocking 
nature.  Gogol  was  the  first  to  notice  the  most  dreadful,  eter- 
nal evil  not  in  a  tragedy  but  in  the  absence  of  anything  tragic, 
not  in  power  but  in  the  lack  of  power,  not  in  senseless  ex- 
tremes but  in  too  sensible  mediocrity,  not  in  sharpness  and 
depth  but  in  dullness  and  flatness,  in  triviality  of  all  human 
feelings  and  thoughts,  not  in  the  greatest  but  in  the  smallest. 
Gogol  was  the  first  to  understand  that  the  devil  is  in  reality 
something  infinitely  small,  and  seems  large  only  because  we 
ourselves  are  so  very  small;  that  he  is  the  most  feeble  thing, 
appearing  strong  only  because  we  ourselves  are  so  feeble.  '  I 
call  things  by  their  real  name/  he  said ;  '  I  call  the  devil,  devil, 
I  do  not  give  him  a  splendid  costume  a  la  Byron,  and  I  know 
that  he  wears  a  frock-coat/  .  .  .  '  The  devil  appeared  in  the 
world  without  a  mask:  he  looks  what  he  actually  is.'  .  .  . 
Gogol  was  the  first  to  see  the  devil  without  a  mask,  to  see 
his  real  face,  which  is  dreadful  not  by  virtue  of  unusual  quali- 
ties but  because  it  is  ordinary  and  trivial;  he  was  the  first 
to  understand  that  the  face  of  the  devil  is  not  anything  dis- 
tant, uncommon,  strange,  or  fantastic,  but  that  it  is  a  very 
close  and  well  known,  real  '  human  all  too  human  *  face,  the 
face  of  the  crowd,  a  face  '  like  everybody's,'  almost  our  own 
face  at  moments  when  we  dare  not  be  ourselves  and  agree 
to  be  '  like  everybody.'  " 

D.  S.  Merezhkovsky. 

"  If  we  have  a  right  to  demand  of  an  author  that  he  repro- 
duce before  our  eyes  the  pulse  not  of  one  individual  person, 
but  of  an  entire  diversified  society,  then  Gogol's  works  ought 
to  take  the  first  place  among  the  novels  that  preceded  them  or 
appeared  at  one  time  with  them,  and  may  be  considered  the 
first  realistic  productions.  They  helped  their  reader  to  under- 
stand the  meaning  of  the  historic  moment  in  which  he  lived. 
Gogol's  comedies  and  Dead  Souls  thus  filled  one  of  the  greatest 
gaps  in  Russian  literature.  Gogol's  characters  were  not  indi- 
vidual phenomena,  they  were  Russia  itself  with  its  current 
social  habits,  tendencies,  thoughts,  and  programs  of  life.  Gogol 
has  a  right  to  be  called  a  realistic  writer,  not  only  because  he 


N.  V.  GOGOL  45 

described  the  Russian  people  in  a  realistic  manner,  but  be- 
cause he  grasped  the  real  substance  of  Russian  life,  because 
fte  knew  how  to  incarnate  in  a  single  type  a  wealth  of  mental 
states  and  a  number  of  lives." 

Nestor  Kotlarevsky. 

"  Gogol  understands  the  secret  of  being  hail-fellow  with  his 
readers;  with  enviable  ease  he  practises  a  language  of  fa- 
miliarity which  puts  us  straight  into  the  atmosphere  of  patri- 
archal life,  making  us  feel  its  specific  odor  even  by  the  very 
construction  of  the  phrases.  He  speaks  with  his  readers  in  the 
tone  of  an  old  acquaintance,  as  if  he  had  lived  with  them  in  the 
same  town,  perhaps  on  the  same  street,  had  seen  them  nearly 
every  day  and  is  sure  they  know  him  as  well  as  his  friends 
and  everything  he  tells  about  them.  Gogol  indulges  in  all 
sorts  of  intimacies  with  his  readers,  and  his  talk  is  sometimes 
peculiarly  simple-hearted  and  gentle." 

V.  Th.  Pereverzev. 

i.  Evenings  on  a  Farm  Near  Dikanka.  Ukrainian 
Tales.     (183 1.) 

In  these  charming  stories  the  fantastic  and  the  realis- 
tic, the  heroic  and  the  humorous  are  strangely  inter- 
twined. The  beliefs  of  the  plain  folk  in  Ukrainia,  Gogol's 
native  land,  the  various  types  of  the  Ukrainian  village, 
the  beauty  of  the  Ukrainian  landscape,  and  the  legends 
and  myths  of  the  Ukrainian  past,  form  the  unique  texture 
of  these  stories.  What  is,  perhaps,  most  precious  in  them 
is  Ukrainian  nature.  Russia  has  not  many  such  artistic 
descriptions  of  a  rich  and  colorful  country. 

The  conflict  between  the  two  elements  in  GogoPs  soul, 
the  romantic  and  the  realistic,  is  strikingly  manifest  in 
these  stories. 

2.    The  Controller  General.    Comedy.    (1836.) 

One  of  the  most  famous  of  GogoPs  works.  The  scene 
of  action  is  the  provincial  bureaucracy.    The  Controller 


46        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

is  an  integral  part  of  the  Russian  repertoire,  an  ever- 
lasting source  of  merriment.  When  it  was  first  set  in  a 
printing  shop,  the  typesetters  could  not  work  for  laughter; 
the  proof  readers  shook  in  convulsions  of  laughter.  Audi- 
ences, then  and  now,  all  over  the  country  burst  into 
uproars. 

The  source  of  humor  in  The  Controller  General  is  in 
the  situation  and  characters,  not  in  exaggerations.  In 
his  Instructions  to  the  actors,  Gogol  warns  them  to  play 
most  naturally,  to  be  modest,  to  appear  even  a  little  more 
noble  than  the  persons  represented  would  be  in  life. 
The  actor  ought  not  to  think  of  being  funny.  "  The 
comical,"  Gogol  writes,  "  will  appear  in  the  very  serious- 
ness with  which  every  person  of  the  comedy  pursues  his 
own  task." 

The  main  hero  is  Khlestakov,  an  impostor,  a  byword 
in  the  mouth  of  every  educated  Russian,  as  are  all  the 
characters  of  the  comedy. 

"  Khlestakov's  lies  have  something  in  common  with  the 
creative  inventions  of  an  artist.  He  is  intoxicated  by  his 
fantasy  to  full  abandon.  Least  of  all  does  he  think  of  gain, 
of  material  advantage.  His  is  a  disinterested  lying,  lying  for 
lying's  sake,  art  for  art's  sake.  He  requires  nothing  of  his 
hearers  but  that  they  believe  him.  He  lies  innocently,  in  an 
unsophisticated  manner,  he  is  the  first  to  believe  what  he  tells, 
he  deceives  himself;  herein  is  the  secret  of  his  influence.  .  .  . 
He  has  the  ability  to  turn  everything  into  one  dimension,  the 
flatness  of  triviality." 

S.  D.  Merezhkovsky. 

"  Gogol's  humor  is  quiet,  quiet  in  its  very  indignation,  good- 
natured  in  its  very  shrewdness.  He  has,  however,  still  another 
humor,  frank  and  menacing  in  its  frankness.  This  humor 
bites  till  blood  runs,  it  sinks  its  teeth  into  the  flesh  to  the  very 
bone,  it  hits  with  all  its  might,  it  lashes  right  and  left  with 


N.  V.  GOGOL  47 

its  whip  which  is  woven  of  hissing  serpents.    This  humor  is 
full  of  gall,  of  venom;  it  knows  no  mercy." 

V.  G.  Byelinsky. 


3.    The  Dead  Souls.    Novel.    (1842.) 

This  is  Gogol's  main  work.  It  is  a  broad  panorama 
of  Russian  provincial  life  under  the  system  of  serfdom. 
The  peasants  are  not  yet  considered  human  beings,  but 
"  souls  "  who  can  be  bought  and  sold.  The  landlords  are 
ignorant,  idle,  and  addicted  to  primitive  physical  pleas- 
ures. The  bureaucracy  is  part  and  parcel  of  this  system, 
thriving  on  it  in  a  parasitic  way.  When  Pushkin  heard 
the  reading  of  the  manuscript  of  this  work  he  exclaimed: 
"  God,  what  a  sad  country  our  Russia  is!  "  Yet  he  could 
not  help  laughing. 

"  The  salient  characteristic  of  GogoPs  writing,  the  extraordi- 
nary plasticity  and  vividness  of  his  figures,  reaches  its  climax 
here.  Russian  literature  knows  of  no  other  figures  that  would 
surpass  the  figures  of  The  Dead  Souls  in  vividness  and  striking 
power.  The  contents  of  the  book  is,  however,  too  national,  it 
is  too  Russian.  The  Dead  Souls  is  a  picture  of  Russia.  Gogol 
saw  the  process  of  disintegration  of  the  primitive,  patriarchal 
system  of  serfdom,  and  the  dreadful  vulgarity  of  this  primitive 
life.    The  picture  is  actually  appalling." 

N.  I.  Korobka. 

"  What  is  common  to  all  Gogol's  figures,  is  the  emptiness  of 
their  existence.  This  emptiness  shows  itself  either  in  complete 
idleness  or  in  paltry  and  senseless  activities  of  no  use  to  any- 
body and  is  accompanied  by  the  failure  to  understand  that  it 
is  emptiness  or  even  by  a  proud  conviction  of  being  the  salt 
of  the  earth.  This  is  the  source  of  merriment  those  types 
provoke.  The  more  satisfied  they  are  with  themselves,  the 
more  they  are  convinced  that  they  are  the  center  of  the  uni- 
verse, the  more  comical  and  strange  do  they  appear  and  the 
less  pity  you  feel  for  them.   .    .    .  This  feature  of  Gogol's 


48        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

characters  is  a  subjective  psychological  reflection  of  their  posi- 
tion in  society.  They  belong  to  a  class  that  has  become 
economically  and  socially  useless  while  it  still  maintains  its 
legal  status  as  the  first  and  foremost  class." 

M.  Th.  Pereverzev. 

The  Dead  Souls  are  really  undying.  Even  as  late  as 
the  twentieth  century  we  still  found  in  Russia  types  and 
characters  which  we  easily  identified  with  the  persons 
of  this  great,  though  unfinished,  work. 

4.    The  Cloak.    Novelette.    (1836.) 

If  ever  Gogol  strove  to  make  us  feel  the  misery  of  life 
and  at  the  same  time  to  open  our  souls  for  a  real  under- 
standing of  our  fellow  human  beings,  for  moral  indigna- 
tion over  the  wrongs  of  the  world  and  for  the  highest 
altruistic  emotions,  he  succeeded  in  this  small  sketch, 
which  is  the  history  of  one  humble  ordinary  creature 
crushed  under  the  weight  of  a  cruel  and  senseless  order. 
"  What  are  you  doing?  Am  I  not  your  brother?  "  this 
poor,  funny  man  seems  to  cry  out  for  generations  over 
the  entire  length  and  breadth  of  Russia. 


[Other  important  works :  Taras  Bulba;  Mirgorod;  Arabesques, 
and  Marriage.] 


S.  T.  AKSAKOV  (1791-1859) 

Aksakov  is  first  of  all  and  above  all  a  Russian  gentle- 
man, a  member  of  the  land-holding  nobility.  His  works 
have  the  odor  of  the  eastern  steppe,  the  freshness  of  a 
field-brook,  the  peacefulness  of  clear  summer  evenings  in 
a  blessed  country  place.  The  things  that  _  live, Jn— his- 
.books  are  those  beautiful  country  places  in  eastern  Rus- 
siajnot  yet  invaded  by  modern  civilization,  placid  and 
contented  in  their  patriarchal  simplicity.  Aksakov  takes 
us  into  the  homes  of  the  landed  nobility  and  into  their 
jamily-lifeT  showsus  their  ideas,  their  cultural  strivings. 
\  Contrary  to  Gogoljand  many  another  writer, |he  accentu- 
ates  the  good  quali&iea  of  the  old-fashioned  Russian 
pomieshchik  ^landlord).)  Qis^wo^ks^are^in  a  manner,  a 
record  of  intellectual  life  among  the  Russian  nobility  at_ 
the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century^ 

However,  being  a  sincere  narrator,  Aksakov  could  not 
pass  over  the  dark  basis  of  the  pomieshchik  life, — serf- 
dom. (His  good-natured  and  powerful  old  types  manifest 
sometimes  a  cruelty  towards Jh^ir^easants_wl^hjejeins 
ghastly"  now.  \besbo^smUs^n_j^standing  feature  of 
those  quiet  little  nests  amid  a  primitive  and  blossoming 
country, — despotism  in  the  relation  between  tiiejathej: 
andjhe  rest  of  the  family T  and  despotism  in  the  relation 
to  the  unpaid  laborers.  If  these  qualities  provoke  in  us 
a  smile  rather  than  indignation,  it  is  due  primarily  to  the 
good  humor,  the  epic  tone  and  the  devotion  to  the  old 
life  with  which  this  old  gentleman,  Aksakov,  proceeds 
in  his  narratives. 

49 


50        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

"  He  is  more  than  a  thinker,  he  is  a  sage.  .  .  .  Lack  of 
pretense,  simplicity,  candor,  combined  with  an  ardent  and 
tender  heart,  soundness  of  judgment  and  clearness  of  vision, 
not  excluding  passionate  outbursts,  honesty,  integrity,  indif- 
ference to  material  advantages,  a  fine  artistic  perception,  a 
sound  judgment,  all  these  qualities  endeared  Sergey  Timofeye- 
vitch  to  every  one  who  knew  him." 

Iv.  S.  Aksakov.     (Son  of  S.  T.  Aksakov.) 

i.   Family  Chronicles.     (1856.) 

A  history  of  the  family  Bagrov  for  a  number  of  gen- 
erations. It  was  no  secret  in  Russia  thatjunder  the  guise 
of  Bagrov,[  [Aksakov  portrayed  his  own  grandfather, 
father  and  mother  land  other  members  of  his  family. 
Notwithstanding  this  biographical"  character  of  tEe 
Chronicles,  the  book  possesses  a  general  interest  as  a 
picture  of  the  local  gentry  at  the  end  of  the  eighteenth 
century. 

Excerpts  from  this  book  have  become  an  integral  part 
of  every  school-reader,  still  it  has  great  value  also  for 
adults.  The  simplicity  of  a  life  close  to  nature  lends  this 
work  a  lasting  charm. 

"  Side  by  side  with  landscapes,  fresh  hues  and  intimacy  of 
tone,  the  Family  Chronicles  possesses  another  valuable  ele- 
ment; namely,  \yivid  and  graphic  characterization.]  Aksakov's 
memory  has  retained  for  decades  hundreds  and  thousands  of 
characteristic  details.  This  wealth  of  details  lends  the  work 
a  marvelous  richness  and  makes  it  all  alive.  .  .  .  Hardly 
any  other  book  in  Russian  literature  contains\a  fuller  picture 
of  gentry  ljfejn  the  good  old  times,  ]a  strange  mixture  of 
the  most  sympathetic  good-naturedness  with  a  wild  and  at 
times  even  beastly  despotism." 

S.  A.  Vengerov. 

I^Vc^vJqI^  tha  tHT+h  about  *hp  old  timesjjt  is  not  the 
full  truth,  to  be  sure,  but  what  he  tells  is  authentic,  uncolored, 


S.  T.  AKSAKOV  51 

and  this  is  his  artistic  contribution  and  his  social  merit. 
Being  averse  to  cruelty,  he  retained  a  warm  feeling,  a  rela- 
tive's love  for  the  cruel,  and  if  this  is  somewhat  of  an  offense 
to  our  moral  sense,  if  at  times  we  would  expect  of  Aksakov 
less  lyricism  and  more  indignation,  still  this  circumstance  does 
not  take  away  from  the  truthfulness  of  the  story  as  to  facts 
and  artistic  presentation,  and  this  is  the  main  thing  we  may 
expect  of  memoirs.  Aksakov's  tranquil  narrative  did  not  lull 
the  reader  into  sleep;  on  the  contrary,  it  stirred  his  feeling  of 
responsibility  and  aroused  hopes  for  a  better  future." 

M.  A.  Protopopov. 

2.  Notes  of  a  Hunter  in  the  Province  of  Orenburg. 
Sketches.  (1852.) 
Lovers  of  primitive  nature  and  descriptions  of  wild  life 
found  a  peculiar  joy  in  reading  these.  One  might  call 
them  poems  in  prose,  dealing  with  the  woods,  rivers,  and 
various  sorts  of  animals  in  eastern  Russia  at  a  time  when 
that  region  was  almost  untouched  by  civilization.  Aksa- 
kov's language,  style  and  manner  in  this  book  are  superb. 

"  Let  the  reader  not  think  that  Notes  of  a  Hunter  has  value 
only  for  sportsmen.  Every  one  who  loves  nature  in  all  its 
variety,  in  all  its  beauty  and  power,  every  one  who  is  touched 
by  the  manifestation  of  universal  life  wherein  man  himself 
stands  as  a  living  link,  superior  to  the  others  but  closely  con- 
nected with  them,  will  not  be  able  to  forget  Mr.  Aksakov's 
work:  it  will  become  his  favorite;  he  will  read  and  reread  it. 
The  specialist  in  natural  science  will  be  enchanted.' ' 

I.  S.  Turgenev. 

[Another  important  work  of  Aksakov's  is  The  Childhood  of 
Bagrov-Grandson,  being  a  sequel  to  Family  Chronicles.] 


A.  N.  OSTROVSKY  (182 3-1 886) 

First  professional  Russian  playwright.  Creator  of  an 
original  Russian  repertoire  and  a  realistic  Russian  theater. 
Though  not  considered  among  the  greatest  classic  authors, 
Ostrovsky  occupies  an  honorable  place  in  Russian  litera- 
ture. He  belongs  to  the  few  chosen  whose  work  it  was  to 
mirror  in  literature,  for  the  first  time,  a  certain  social 
group  and  thus  to  make  Russia  see  herself  as  she  was. 

The  realm  of  Ostrovsky's  observations  is  primarily 
the  Russian  middle-class,  merchants  and  manufacturers, 
as  they  could  be  seen  in  Moscow  and  in  provincial  towns 
about  the  middle  of  the  century.  As  Ostrovsky  repre- 
sents it,  this  class  is  in  the  powerful  grip  of  tradition. 
It  had  hardly  changed  in  its  family  relations  since  the 
seventeenth  century.  The  order  is  strictly  patriarchal. 
The  power  of  the  father  is  practically  unlimited.  Wives, 
sons  and  daughters,  especially  the  latter,  lead  a  life  of 
fear  and  subordination.  Still,  there  are  many  splendid 
characters  among  those  people,  and  underneath  the 
deadening  crust  of  centuries-old  habits  runs  a  stream 
of  fresh  life.  The  best  of  the  class  are  protesting  in 
various  ways,  longing,  as  they  are,  for  a  more  human 
existence,  for  light  and  independence. 

Ostrovsky  is  a  strong  realist.  The  characters  of  his 
plays  are  taken  from  the  very  midst  of  life  and  are 
typical.  Many  of  his  characters  have  become  a  byword 
in  Russia.  His  dialogues  are  a  treasure  of  the  Russian 
language.  As  a  playwright,  he  was  very  skilful,  and  for 
decades  his  productions  were  a  feature  of  the  Russian 
stage. 

52 


A.  N.  OSTROVSKY  53 

Though  Ostrovsky's  plays  are  primarily  centered 
around  the  family  relations  of  their  heroes,  they  give  also 
a  picture  of  the  middle-class  as  an  economic  and  social 
group.  Many  other  groups  appear  in  his  productions, 
but  his  fame  is  based  on  his  presentations  of  the  middle- 
class. 

"  Reviewing  in  memory  the  long  series  of  Ostrovsky's 
heroes  and  heroines,  you  invariably  see  them  equipped  either 
with  the  mouth  of  a  wolf  or  with  the  tail  of  a  fox,  or  with 
both.  The  psychology  of  violence  and  fraud  as  they  appear 
in  Russia  is  the  subject  of  nearly  all  Ostrovsky's  plays.  It 
forms  the  contents  at  least  of  those  works  which  will  live 
as  Ostrovsky's  most  characteristic  productions  and  which  are 
a  valuable  contribution  to  Russian  literature  and  Russian 
scenic  art.  Ostrovsky's  historic  dramas  and  historic  chronicles 
may  possess  good  qualities,  but  they  are  not  original  and  are 
not  characteristic  of  him  as  an  author.  His  power  is  in  his 
depicting  of  typical  Russian  violence  and  fraud  with  inex- 
haustible force  and  the  most  penetrating  analysis." 

N.  K.  MlKHAYLOVSKY. 

"At  the  basis  of  Ostrovsky's  plays  lie  democratic  ideals, 
not  in  the  political  sense  of  adherence  to  a  social  order  based 
on  democratic  principles,  but  in  the  broader  sense  as  applied 
to  everyday  life  and  individual  morality.  Simplicity,  mildness, 
honesty,  truthfulness,  courage  in  the  fight  against  evil,  hard 
assiduous  work,  are  everywhere  contrasted  with  laziness,  loose- 
ness of  manner,  lewdness,  meekness,  outward  luster,  false  ap- 
pearances, unrestricted  despotism,  and  stubborn  wilfulness. 
We  see  representatives  of  the  various  social  groups.  They 
are  far  from  perfection,  sometimes  they  are  very  funny  and 
awkward.  Others  are  strong  of  spirit  and  will,  and  are 
actuated  by  a  desire  even  to  sacrifice  their  lives  for  their 
neighbors.  .  .  .  As  to  the  scope  of  Ostrovsky's  works,  we 
are  amazed  to  find  in  them  an  unusually  broad  panorama  of 
Russian  life,  present  and  past." 

A.  M.  Skabitchevsky. 


54       GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

"  There  is  a  profound  reason  why  Ostrovsky  chose  the  mer- 
chant class  as  his  subject,  outside  of  the  fact  that  he  was 
intimately  acquainted  with  it.  The  merchant  class,  as  the 
most  numerous  and  active,  was  by  its  very  occupation  com- 
pelled to  come  into  contact  with  all  the  other  social  groups 
and  classes;  it  thus  acquired  all  the  habits  and  customs  pre- 
vailing in  Russia;  it  crystallized,  as  it  were,  the  fundamental 
traits  of  the  national  character;  it  manifested  both  the  influ- 
ences of  a  many-sided  civilization  and  those  primitive  features 
which  retained  their  original  simplicity." 

P.  Weinberg. 

i.    The  Storm.    Drama,    (i860.) 

This  is  Ostrovsky's  most  famous  play.  The  conflict 
between  the  deadening  grip  of  a  crude  patriarchal  family 
life  and  the  craving  of  a  young  beautiful  woman's  soul 
towards  emotional  freedom,  is  given  a  most  vivid  pres- 
entation. It  is  one  of  the  most  genuine  Russian  crea- 
tions. 

"  The  dramatic  conflicts  and  catastrophes  in  Ostrovsky's 
works  are  the  result  of  conflicts  between  old  and  young,  rich 
and  poor,  despotic  and  defenseless.  We  see  the  melancholy 
faces  of  our  younger  brothers,  sad,  full  of  resignation.  This 
is  a  world  of  subdued,  silently  moaning  grief,  a  world  of 
dull,  nagging  pain,  a  world  of  prisonlike,  gravelike  silence. 
There  is  no  light,  no  warmth,  no  space  to  move  in.  Yet  man 
is  alive;  you  never  can  destroy  his  craving  for  life.  In  utter 
darkness,  a  spark  is  sometimes  rekindled,  that  sacred  fire 
which  burns  in  the  heart  of  every  man  before  it  is  drowned 
in  the  muddy  swamp  of  life.  By  the  passing  light  of  those 
sparks  we  see  the  sufferings  of  our  brothers.  Such  a  '  spark 
of  light  in  the  world  of  darkness  *  is  Katharine,  the  heroine 
of  The  Storm"  N.  A.  Dobrolyubov. 

2.    Poverty  Is  No  Crime.     Comedy.     (1854.) 

We  see  another  protest  here,  the  protest  of  a  man  who 
prefers  poverty  and  freedom  to  the  restrictions  imposed 


A.  N.  OSTROVSKY  55 

on  the  human  soul  by  wealth.  There  are  two  brothers 
in  the  comedy,  one  is  prosperous  and  proud,  the  other 
has  squandered  his  property,  he  is  almost  a  beggar,  and 
he  has  no  family  and  no  shelter.  Yet  he  has  retained 
independence  of  spirit;  his  judgment  is  broad  and  hu- 
mane, and  the  reader  is  irresistibly  attracted  to  him. 

[Other  works  of  interest :  The  Snow-Maiden,  Bad  Days.    Os- 
trovsky's  plays  number  several  dozen.] 


TH.  M.  RESHETNIKOV  (1841-1871) 

A  simple  son  of  the  people  who,  through  infinite  pain 
and  struggle,  acquired  an  education  and  began  to  write, 
describing  the  life  of  the  poor  in  a  very  realistic  manner. 
His  sketches,  particularly  those  depicting  the  peasants  in 
eastern  Russia,  made  a  profound  impression.  They 
were  like  the  call  of  the  earth  itself,  the  cry  of  a  life 
caught  in  the  clutches  of  poverty,  suffering,  ignorance, 
cruelty.  .  .  .  Nobody  equaled  Reshetnikov  in  power, 
though  his  talent  is  quite  inferior  to  that  of  the  great 
masters. 

Those  of  Podlipovka.    Novelette.    (1864.) 

A  history  of  two  peasants  of  the  Perm  province  who 
left  their  native  village  to  seek  happiness  in  town.  They 
are  supposed  to  be  free  men,  these  serfs  of  yesterday, 
yet  Russia  was  shocked  by  the  savage  appearance  and 
primitive  minds  of  these  new  citizens. 

"  Even  now,  after  having  gone  through  many  experiences 
and  having  seen  not  a  few  horrifying  pictures,  now  that  we 
make  such  great  demands  on  the  language  of  a  writer  of  fiction 
and  our  literary  style  has  made  such  rapid  progress,  Those  of 
Podlipovka,  with  their  primitive  language,  with  their  descrip- 
tion of  small  details  of  peasant  life,  make  the  impression  of  a 
prolonged,  terrifying,  importunate  nightmare.  Poverty  and 
ignorance,  impotence  and  impossibility  are  strangely  inter- 
twined in  this  implacable  nightmare;  you  never  find  a  way  out, 
you  do  not  know  how  to  break  its  spell. 

"  It  gives  the  dumbfounding  impression  of  a  big  clod  of 
life,  split  off  from  ordinary  human  existence,  a  shapeless,  un- 
canny, unendurable  clod."  I.  N.  Ignatov. 

56 


N.  G.  CHERNYSHEVSKY  (1828-1889) 

Economist,  sociologist,  philosopher,  publicist,  critic. 
One  of  the  most  influential  intellectual  leaders  of  the 
fifties  and  sixties. 

Chernyshevsky  appeared  on  the  scene  of  Russian  life 
when  the  end  of  serfdom  was  near,  when  new  economic 
forces  were  rapidly  developing,  when  a  new  intelligentzia 
was  coming  up  from  the  ranks  of  the  plain  people  push- 
ing the  intelligentzia  of  the  noble  mansions  to  the  back- 
ground, when  all  Russian  life  was  ready,  at  least  in  the 
opinion  of  the  progressive  elements,  to  be  reconstructed 
on  a  modern  basis.  Chernyshevsky  gave  utterance  to 
those  strivings  of  the  new  times.  A  profound  scholar  in 
many  realms,  a  disciple  of  Fourier  and  Feuerbach,  he 
evolved  a  theory  of  radical  reconstruction  in  Russia 
which,  he  thought,  would  culminate  in  a  socialist  order. 
He  was  more  than  a  mere  philosopher  and  economist, 
however;  he  influenced  his  generation  as  a  teacher  of  life. 
His  numerous  essays  and  articles  had  the  aim  of  showing 
young  Russia  how  to  live,  how  to  free  itself  from  the 
superstitions  of  the  passing  epoch,  how  to  organize  its 
family  life,  how  to  build  up  relations  within  the  com- 
munity, how  to  establish  a  healthy,  prosperous,  rational 
social  life.  What  was  most  precious  in  his  writings  was 
faith  in  life,  faith  in  man,  a  vigorous  tone,  confidence  in 
the  future.  The  impending  and  later  actually  realized 
reforms  were  for  Chernyshevsky  the  beginning  of  a 
new  joyous  era  shot  through  with  the  fire  of  ideals.  The 
response  in  Russia  was  enormous.     Chernyshevsky  be- 

57 


58        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

came  the  idol  of  his  time,  enjoying  even  more  recogni- 
tion than  did  Byelinsky  in  the  forties. 

It  was  natural  for  a  man  of  Chernyshevsky's  kind  to 
write  also  on  literature,  as  the  characters  presented  in 
literary  works  gave  him  an  occasion  to  criticize  society 
and  to  make  his  followers  realize  the  need  for  a  higher 
culture  in  a  better  social  order.  Between  1853  and  1858 
Chernyshevsky  is  the  leading  critic.  Later  he  resorted 
to  fiction  in  order  to  make  his  ideas  more  accessible  to 
the  public.  Czarism,  of  course,  could  not  tolerate  a 
worker  of  Chernyshevsky's  scope;  it  imprisoned  him  and 
sent  him  to  eastern  Siberia,  where  he  spent  some  twenty 
years  under  rigid  vigilance.  Thus  his  fruitful  career  was 
cut  almost  at  its  beginning.  Still,  the  trace  left  by  Cher- 
nyshevsky in  Russian  economic  and  political  life  and  in 
social  thinking  is  deep  and  indelible. 

1.     What  Is  To  Be  Done?    Novel.     (1863.) 

Written  in  the  fortress  of  Peter  and  Paul,  this  work  is 
a  repetition  in  fiction  of  what  the  author  was  preaching 
in  serious  essays  and  treatises.  It  is  the  history  of  a  few 
intellectuals  from  the  ranks  who  organized  their  life  on 
a  new  sound  basis.  There  is  nothing  unusual  about  most 
of  them.  They  have  just  acquired  education,  they  have 
done  away  with  the  apathy  of  archaic  Russia,  they  are 
doing  practical  work  of  a  useful  character,  they  are  free 
from  senseless  conventional  restrictions,  they  recognize 
full  equality  between  men  and  women  in  the  pursuit  of 
life,  and  they  are  ready  to  help  their  neighbors  actively. 
They  are  far  from  sacrificing  themselves  (with  very  few 
exceptions);  their  idea  is  rather  sound  egoism  which 
necessarily  involves  cooperation  with  others.  What  is 
valuable  about  them  is  their  courage,  confidence,  respect 


N.  G.  CHERNYSHEVSKY  59 

for  sound  work,  ability  to  live  a  full  life  with  no  vestige 
of  the  traditional  Russian  gloom. 

The  novel  was  a  revelation  to  Russia.  "  It  was  like  a 
bomb  exploding  with  a  terrible,  crushing  force,"  to  use 
the  expression  of  a  Russian  critic.  It  became  the  Bible 
of  the  young  generations  for  many  a  decade.  Life,  that 
terrible  tangle,  looked  so  plain  and  rational  in  What  Is 
To  Be  Done?  It  was  such  a  joy  to  know  that  man,  by 
force  of  will  and  rational  thinking,  can  make  himself 
like  one  of  the  heroes  of  that  startling  novel.  What  Is 
To  Be  Done?  was  soon  suppressed  by  the  censor,  but  sub 
rosa  editions  circulated  everywhere,  and  there  was 
hardly  an  intellectual  Russian  who  did  not  read  the 
novel. 

Chernyshevsky's  novels  are  long-winded,  they  are  check- 
ered with  digressions,  they  present  a  somewhat  uncouth  ap- 
pearance, and  remind  one  of  productions  a  these,  yet  What 
Is  To  Be  Done?  is  being  read  with  unabating  interest  even  at 
present,  and  it  stirs  our  soul.  One  may  explain  this  phenom- 
enon by  the  contents  of  the  book,  its  type  of  characters,  and 
the  qualities  of  the  idea  propounded.  Such  an  explanation, 
however,  would  not  be  sufficient.  The  very  fact  that  the  novel 
has  stood  the  greatest  of  all  tests,  the  test  of  time,  shows  that 
it  is  not  devoid  of  certain  artistic  qualities;  it  shows  that 
the  psychology  of  the  time  was  reflected  in  it  correctly,  and 
this  alone  is  an  important  feature.  Aside  from  this,  however, 
it  must  be  said  that  some  of  Chernyshevsky's  types  are  drawn 
with  great  artistic  power.  .  .  .  Still,  the  dominant  element 
in  his  fiction  is  not  the  artistic,  but  the  instructive." 

J.  M.  Styeklov. 

"What  Is  To  Be  Done?  was  a  vast  success.  It  does  not 
sparkle  with  artistic  subtleties,  though  it  is  full  of  keen  ob- 
servations and  humor.  Its  main  value  lies  in  a  passionate, 
thoroughly  sincere  enthusiasm.  The  novel  ought  to  be  com- 
pared not  with  the  artistic  works  of  a  Turgenev,  Tolstoi,  or 


60        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

Dostoyevsky,  but  with  such  productions  as,  for  instance,  the 
philosophical  novels  of  Voltaire." 

G.  V.  Plekhanov. 

"  If  the  value  of  a  writer  is  measured  by  the  degree  of  his 
influence  on  society;  if  the  value  of  a  book  is  determined  by 
the  force  of  its  reaction  on  the  mind  of  the  reader,  then 
Chernyshevsky  and  his  What  Is  To  Be  Done?  occupy  an  ex- 
ceptional place  in  the  history  of  Russian  culture.  Not  only 
contemporaries,  but  also  later  generations  attributed  to  this 
novel  some  of  their  best  moments,  their  humanitarian  emotions, 
their  striving  for  life,  light,  and  happiness.  It  gave  them  faith 
in  life,  and  courage  to  construct  it  on  the  basis  of  equality 
and  freedom." 

N.  Brodsky. 

2.  Gogol's  Epoch  in  Russian  Literature.     Critical  Es- 

says.    (1856.) 

3.  Critical  Essays.     (1 854-1 861.) 

In  his  critical  essays,  Chernyshevsky  accentuates  the 
social  element  almost  more  than  the  artistic,  the  useful 
more  than  the  beautiful.  True  it  is  that  he  requires 
talent  of  an  author.  He  also  takes  it  for  granted  that  a 
work  of  no  artistic  value  cannot  serve  a  social  purpose. 
He  says  occasionally  that  "  the  poet  ought  to  be  free, 
first  of  all,  his  lips  ought  to  utter  only  things  that  fill 
his  heart."  He  says  that  "  autonomy  is  the  supreme  law 
of  art."  Still,  for  him  as  a  social  propagandist  and  re- 
former, the  contents  of  a  literary  work  is  of  supreme  im- 
portance. "  For  a  real  critic,"  he  writes,  "  the  work 
under  consideration  is  often  a  mere  pretext  to  develop 
his  own  views  on  a  subject  which  was  touched  by  the 
author  only  in  passing  and  in  a  one-sided  manner."  In 
accordance  with  this  conception,  Chernyshevsky's  criti- 
cism is  quite  often  only  a  discourse  over  certain  aspects  of 


N.  G.  CHERNYSHEVSKY  61 

life  which  he  finds  mentioned  in  a  work,  though  he  does 
not  altogether  refrain  from  discussing  the  purely  artistic 
merits  of  an  author.  Thus  Chernyshevsky's  criticisms 
are,  in  a  way,  a  connecting  link  between  Byelinsky's 
estheticism  and  Pisarev's  artistic  nihilism.1 

1  See  respective  chapters. 


D.  I.  PISAREV  ( 1 841-1868) 

Critic,  publicist,  and  author  of  popular  works  on  history 
and  science.  Pisarev  is  the  leading  spirit  of  the  sixties. 
He  most  fully  expresses  the  trend  of  thought  arid  the 
social  movement  of  his  time. 

This  was  a  stirring  time.  The  serfs  had  just  been 
liberated.  A  number  of  important  civic  reforms  (the 
great  reforms  of  the  sixties)  had  been  introduced.  New 
possibilities  for  economic  development  had  been  opened. 
Industrialism  was  making  its  first  conquests  in  hitherto 
archaic  Russia.  The  thinking  elements  saw  the  coming 
of  a  new  era.  Their  attention,  previously  concentrated 
on  one  paramount  issue,  abolition  of  slavery,  turned  now 
to  the  broad  problem  of  making  Russia  more  prosperous 
and  more  healthy.  Two  things  were  most  pressing: 
work  instead  of  former  indolence,  and  technical  knowl- 
edge instead  of  former  dreams. 

These  two  points  formed  the  foundation  of  Pisarev's 
program.  "  Two  facts,"  he  wrote,  "  loom  up  before  our 
eyes;  two  immense  facts  which  are  the  source  of  all 
our  other  miseries  and  evils.  First,  we  are  poor;  second, 
we  are  ignorant.  We  are  poor,  that  is  to  say,  in  relation 
to  our  population  we  have  not  enough  bread,  meat,  linen, 
cloth,  clothing,  shoes,  underwear,  dwellings,  comfortable 
furniture,  good  agricultural  machinery;  in  short,  not 
enough  products  of  work.  We  are  ignorant,  that  is  to 
say,  an  overwhelming  majority  of  our  minds  do  not  work; 
only  one  out  of  ten  thousand  brains  is  active  in  one  way 
or  another,  still  that  one  produces  twenty  times  less  of 

62 


D.  I.  PISAREV  63 

useful  thoughts  than  it  could  produce  under  normal  con- 
ditions without  any  strain." 

In  accordance  with  this  program,  Pisarev  hailed  the 
realist  and  condemned  art. 

A  realist  in  his  conception  is  a  man  who  does  useful 
practical  work  in  any  realm  of  life.  A  realist  is  not 
a  dreamer.  He  pursues  his  own  interest.  He  works  for 
himself.  He  is  an  egoist.  Yet  in  his  pursuit  of  happi- 
ness he  inevitably  takes  account  of  his  neighbors,  as  he 
can  never  be  happy  where  others  suffer.  His  very  egoism 
prompts  him  to  direct  his  work  so  as  to  secure  the  hap- 
piness of  all.  "  When  the  individual  realizes  the  import- 
ance and  the  high  significance  of  his  personal  work,  when 
he  sees  in  it  a  connecting  link  between  himself  and  mil- 
lions of  other  thinking  human  beings,  then  he  becomes 
still  more  attached  to  his  work,  he  develops  his  abilities 
more  fully,  he  feels  more  keenly  the  justice  of  his  en- 
deavor, and  his  happiness  grows." 

A  realist  is  a  man  equipped  with  skill,  with  knowledge, 
with  natural  science,  a  worker  free  of  prejudices  and  un- 
hampered by  archaic  conventions.  He  is  the  builder  of 
a  new,  healthy,  and  prosperous  mankind. 

Yet  a  realist  has  no  place  for  art  in  the  scheme  of  his 
life.  Under  art  Pisarev  understands  every  luxury  of  a  re- 
fined, inactive  life,  every  indulgence  in  esthetic  pursuits 
that  have  no  bearing  upon  the  practical  improvement  of 
economic  or  social  conditions.  Pure  poetry,  pure  litera- 
ture, accordingly,  falls  under  Pisarev's  ban.  A  son  of  the 
nobility  with  all  its  refinement  and  estheticism,  Pisarev 
launches  the  heaviest  attacks  on  the  idle  landlords  whose 
sole  occupation  is  music,  poetry  in  various  languages, 
romanticism,  and  the  idealistic  philosophy  of  the  West. 
All  his  writings  are  an  attempt  to  shake  the  Russian  in- 


64        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

telligentzia  out  of  its  inertia  and  traditional  detachment, 
to  make  it  see  life  as  it  is,  partake  of  life's  work,  and 
be  useful  citizens  of  a  progressive  country. 

Consequently,  Pisarev  demands  that  literature  spread 
new  and  sound  ideas.  Literature  does  not  exist  for  him  as 
a  value  in  itself.  Literature  must  do  public  service. 
The  writers,  he  says,  ought  to  be  teachers  in  practical 
life.  What  the  philosopher  or  sociologist  do  through 
their  investigations,  the  writer  ought  to  do  through  his 
pictures,  both  differing  only  in  method:  the  former  pro- 
pound general  ideas;  the  latter  shows  practical  instances 
illustrating  the  same  ideas.  According  to  Pisarev,  it 
would  be  better  to  do  away  with  literature  altogether. 
"  Yet/'  he  writes,  "  if  there  are  human  organisms  who 
can  express  their  thoughts  easier  in  images,  if  a  novel 
or  a  poem  is  a  better  means  for  them  to  propound  a  new 
idea  which  they  would  be  unable  to  develop  with  sufficient 
completeness  and  clearness  in  a  theoretical  essay,  then  let 
them  do  as  it  is  convenient  for  them.  The  critic  will 
notice  and  society  will  appreciate  a  fruitful  idea  in 
whatever  form  it  may  appear." 

It  is  evident  that  from  this  standpoint  most  of  Russian 
literature  and  Russian  criticism,  including  Pushkin  and 
Byelinsky,  was  of  no  value  to  Pisarev.  His  critical  es- 
says, accordingly,  are  hardly  to  be  classed  with  literary 
criticism.  They  are  splendid  sociological  analyses  where 
the  critic  sits  in  judgment  over  the  characters  represented 
by  the  author,  revealing  the  defects  of  their  conceptions, 
criticising  their  "  unreasonable  "  behavior,  pointing  out 
the  vices  of  their  class,  tracing  their  shortcomings  back 
to  social  environment,  enumerating  the  faults  of  the  social 
order,  and  making  a  vigorous  plea  for  better,  healthier, 
more  advanced  lives.    A  writer  whose  characters  do  not 


D.  I.  PISAREV  65 

conform  with  the  idea  of  realism  is,  in  Pisarev's  judgment, 
useless. 

It  was  an  untenable  doctrine,  yet  such  was  the  urgency 
for  practical  work,  for  education,  for  knowledge,  for 
eliminating  the  remnants  of  a  shattered  feudal  system, 
that  Pisarev  soon  became  the  leading  writer  of  his  genera- 
tion, and  his  influence  was  enormous.  His  articles  and 
essays  were  a  veritable  school  of  life  for  the  youth  of 
his  time  and  of  many  decades  to  come,  and  his  name  was 
often  mentioned  with  Byelinsky's. 

Pisarev  possesses  a  splendid  style,  an  ease,  fluency, 
and  boldness  of  expression  which  make  his  writings  very 
attractive  reading  even  now. 

Pisarev  created  no  school,  yet  there  are  a  number  of 
well-known  Russian  critics  of  the  nineteenth  and  twen- 
tieth centuries  who,  though  not  proclaiming  the  useless- 
ness  of  art,  discuss  literary  work  from  the  sociological 
standpoint,  and  approve  or  disapprove  of  a  writer  in  the 
degree  his  work  manifests  a  progressive  conception. 
Those  critics  cannot  be  called  Pisarev's  disciples,  as  they 
differ  from  him  radically  in  their  starting  points,  yet  in 
methods  they  hark  back  to  the  great  critic  of  the  sixties. 

1.  Realists.    Essay.    (1864.) 

Taking  as  an  example  the  hero  of  Turgenev's  Fathers 
and  Children,  Bazarov,  the  author  gives  a  clear  exposi- 
tion of  what  a  realist  ought  to  be.  The  Realists  aroused 
a  stormy  discussion. 

2.  Pushkin  and  By elinsky.    Essay.    (1865.) 

Pisarev  applies  his  method  here  in  the  most  brilliant 
manner.  It  is  hardly  an  essay  on  Pushkin  or  Byelinsky 
as  writers.    It  is  a  work  intended  to  show  that  Pushkin's 


66        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

heroes,  notably  Onegin  and  Tatyana,  are  typical  repre- 
sentatives of  a  parasitic  class;  that  Pushkin  who  de- 
scribes them  lovingly  is  no  better  than  his  heroes;  and  that 
Byelinsky  who  praises  Pushkin  is  a  useless  writer.  Pi- 
sarev  regrets  that  Byelinsky  did  not  receive  a  mathemat- 
ical education  which  would  have  enabled  him  to  write 
essays  on  history  or  science. 

[Other  characteristic  essays:  Pisemsky;  Turgenev  and  Gon- 
tcharov;  Women's  Types;  Flowers  of  Innocent  Humor;  The 
Romance  of  a  Muslin  Girl] 


N.  A.  NEKRASOV  (i 821-1877) 

Poet.  One  of  the  most  typical  representatives  of  the 
Russian  intelligentzia  whose  heart  was  constantly  aching 
with  the  sufferings  of  the  people.  He  was  the  son  of  a 
landlord  and  a  member  of  the  nobility,  but  he  despised 
slavery  and  condemned  the  humiliation  of  the  peasants. 
Being  unable  to  identify  himself  completely  with  the  ex- 
ploited and  downtrodden  classes,  he  despised  himself 
and  condemned  his  own,  often  imaginary  vices.  Being  a 
poet  of  great  lyrical  vehemence,  he  often  wrote  journal- 
istic stuff  in  verse,  or  political  satires,  or  scourging  f  euille- 
tons.  All  his  works,  personal  as  well  as  political,  lyrical 
as  well  as  narrative,  are  marked  with  a  deep  sincerity 
of  pain,  realism  of  description,  clarity  of  expression,  and 
power  of  emphasis.  Apollon  Grigoryev  speaks  of  "the 
sledge-hammer  of  Nekrasov's  emotions  which  strikes  out- 
right with  might  and  main,"  and  I.  S.  Turgenev  says  that 
"  Nekrasov's  poems,  focused  on  one  point,  are  scorching." 
Nekrasov  himself  calls  his  Muse  "  the  Muse  of  revenge 
and  of  grief,"  and  it  was  through  his  works  that  genera- 
tions of  young  Russians  learned  to  hate  oppression,  to 
abominate  autocracy,  to  understand  the  common  people, 
and  to  sympathize  with  the  toiler.  While  Pushkin  was 
a  source  of  beauty  and  serene  fancy,  Nekrasov  gave  his 
readers  the  stinging  touch  of  excruciating  reality;  while 
Pushkin  resembled  a  colorful  flower-bed  in  a  frame  of 
marble  statuary,  Nekrasov  was  a  strong  salty  breeze  from 
a  heaving  sea.    And  there  were  times  when  Nekrasov 

67 


68        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

was  more  cherished  by  the  progressive  Russian  intelli- 
gentzia than  even  Pushkin  or  Lermontov. 

"  Nekrasov  was  a  strong  analyst.  His  thought  always  pro- 
ceeded from  facts  to  their  causes.  In  his  lyrics  he  castigates 
himself  with  merciless  passion.  In  his  other  poems  he  exposes 
the  contradictions  of  social  life,  protesting  against  their  evils 
in  one  way  or  another.  He  treats  of  the  most  fundamental 
issues  of  the  Russian  social  order,  and  his  poems  reflect  the 
broodings  and  moods  of  his  progressive  contemporaries  in  the 
most  sensitive  manner.  Being  a  satirist,  striking  evil  not 
with  a  lash,  but  with  a  hammer,  Nekrasov  directed  his  blows 
to  those  points  where  contradictions  were  the  sharpest,  where 
sufferings  were  the  keenest.  Children,  women,  and  the  mass 
of  the  peasantry,  the  "  people,"  were  the  closest  objects  of  his 
attention.  To  illuminate  the  life  of  the  people  with  rays  of 
consciousness  he  thought  his  direct  vocation.  In  his  larger 
works,  however,  he  approached  those  sides  of  the  people's 
life  which  required  not  the  passionate  grief  of  a  satirist,  but 
the  lofty  tenderness  of  an  epic  poet." 

V.  P.  Kranichfeld. 

i.   Lyrical  Poems.     (1840-18 7 7.) 

It  was  only  in  the  last  decade  that  particular  attention 
was  called  to  the  short  lyrical  poems  of  Nekrasov,  which 
up  to  that  time  were  overshadowed  by  his  more  bulky 
and  more  readable  socio-political  poems.  Lovers  of 
poetry  were  charmed  by  the  penetrative  sincerity  of 
those  personal  confessions,  by  the  music  of  their  lan- 
guage, by  the  grip  of  their  pain.  In  poetical  value  those 
poems  often  surpass  the  more  known  objective  works. 

2.    Who  Lives  Well  in  Russia.     (1 869-1 874.) 

Seven  peasants  assembled,  the  poet  says,  and  began  to 
argue  as  to  who  lives  well  in  Russia.  Opinions  differed. 
One  said,  the  landlords;  another,  the  fat  merchant;  a 


N.  A.  NEKRASOV  69 

third,  the*  priest;  a  fourth,  the  government's  official;  a 
fifth,  the  Tsar.  The  peasants  made  a  bet.  They  decided 
to  go  over  Russia  from  end  to  end  and  to  find  out  who 
is  the  happiest  one.  Thus  the  poet  created  a  framework 
for  a  broad  and  vivid  description  of  Russia  just  a  year 
or  two  after  the  abolition  of  serfdom.  The  work  is  writ- 
ten in  the  tone  of  folklore.  Miracles  happen  in  it  as  in 
any  of  the  popular  fairy  tales.  Yet  Who  Lives  Well  in 
Russia  is  full  of  striking  realism,  of  keen  observation. 
Interwoven  as  it  is  with  lyrical  digressions,  with  narra- 
tives of  human  lives,  with  contemplations  of  the  fate  of 
the  Fatherland,  it  is  unique  in  Russian  literature. . 

"  Thou  art  beggarly, 
Thou  art  plentiful, 
Thou  art  infirm, 
Thou  art  powerful, 
O  mother  Russia!  " 

These  lines  could  be  used  as  a  refrain  to  the  entire 
work  which  is  borne  on  waves  of  deep  compassion  for 
the  native  land. 

"  It  was  Nekrasov's  intention  to  write  a  tremendous  poem 
which  would  reflect  the  entire  life  of  Russia,  from  the  potentate 
down  to  the  sailor  on  the  Volga,  all  against  the  background 
of  Russian  nature.  A  picture,  colorful  as  Russia  herself,  un- 
rolls before  us;  melancholy  and  pity  breathe  from  all  its 
corners."  P.  Weinberg. 

3.   Red  Nose  Frost.    (1864.) 

A  powerful  description  of  the  peasant's  family  life  in 
a  poor  village,  and  a  study  in  peasant  character.  The 
figure  of  the  peasant  woman  whom  the  poet  observes  in 
a  moment  of  crushing  distress,  is  full  of  unusual  beauty, 
almost  greatness.    Yet  Nekrasov  did  not  idealize.    He 


70       GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

only  wanted  to  reveal  before  the  eyes  of  the  world  some 
of  the  hidden  treasures  of  the  human  heart  and  intelli- 
gence which  lie  buried  under  the  debris  of  poverty  and 
misfortune.  The  poem  is  unsurpassed  in  vigor  of  style 
and  in  sublimity  of  feeling. 

4.    Russian  Women.     (1872-1873.) 

If  the  heroine  of  Red  Nose  Frost  comes  from  the  low- 
est class,  the  Princess  Volkonskaya  and  the  Princess  Tru- 
betzkaya  in  the  Russian  Women  come  from  the  top.  Es- 
sentially, however,  all  three  women  are  the  same.  They 
are  strong  and  tender,  sensitive  and  unbending  in  their 
self-sacrifice  for  what  is  dearest  to  them.  Princess  Vol- 
konskaya and  Princess  Trubetzkaya  leave  their  comfort- 
able homes  and  their  social  positions  to  share  the  bitter 
lot  of  their  husbands,  who  had  participated  in  the  revolu- 
tionary uprising  of  1825  and  were  sentenced  to  hard  labor 
in  the  mines  of  eastern  Siberia.  The  characters  of  the 
two  women  are  drawn  with  a  firm  and  loving  hand.  The 
hardships  they  have  to  face  and  the  crudeness  of  the  sur- 
roundings they  have  to  adapt  themselves  to,  only  make 
the  beauty  of  their  souls  appear  in  a  brighter  light.  Prin- 
cess Volkonskaya  and  Princess  Trubetzkaya  belong  to 
the  most  charming  feminine  portraits  in  Russian  poetry. 

[For   further   reading,    Nekrasov's  Railroad,  Contemplations 
at  the  Mansion  Door,  Children,  may  be  recommended.] 


I.  A.  GONTCHAROV  (1812-1891) 

On  the  border-line  between  the  old  and  the  new,  be- 
tween the  well-defined  characters  of  a  patriarchal  regime 
and  the  unclear  shapes  of  approaching  modern  times, 
stands  the  novelist  Gontcharov,  one  of  the  classical  Rus- 
sian artists.  Temperamentally  and  emotionally  he  is 
with  the  old,  with  the  placid  noble  mansions,  with  the 
quiet  lakes  hardly  disturbed  by  a  ripple,  with  the  robust, 
red-faced  and  well-fed  old  gentlemen  of  the  landed 
estates,  with  the  unsophisticated  beautiful  and  good- 
natured  women,  with  that  vegetarian  life  where  even  the 
sky  seems  closer  to  the  earth  and  the  chariot  of  life  is 
rolling  with  the  swiftness  of  a  peasant  wagon  drawn  by 
oxen  in  the  midst  of  a  sun-tired  landscape  on  a  July  mid- 
day. Mentally,  however,  Gontcharov  sees  the  coming  of 
new  men,  new  ideas,  new  wishes,  new  struggles,  the  ris- 
ing of  new  tones  which  combine  in  dissonances  and  often 
fill  the  air  with  an  uncomfortable  uproar.  Gontcharov 
sees  the  inevitability  of  impending  changes;  he  deems 
it  even  his  duty  to  sympathize  with  some  of  the  reforms 
which,  of  course,  he  thinks  should  be  introduced  ever 
so  slowly,  cautiously,  peacefully,  with  no  shocks  at  all. 
Innately  he  is  a  bdrin,  a  gentleman  of  the  pomieshchik 
type,  and  his  writings  inevitably  reflect  this  duality  of 
his  make-up. 

He  is  a  beautiful  artist.  He  has  an  ease  and  charm  of 
style  hardly  surpassed  by  Turgenev.  He  has  a  penetrat- 
ing eye  which  sees  a  wealth  of  detail  and  color.  He 
has  a  manner,  quiet,  composed,  serene,  which  makes  all 

71 


72        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

his  pictures  emanate  a  refreshing  warmth.  He  has  a 
humor,  soft  and  friendly,  which  gives  a  peculiar  human 
touch  to  most  of  his  observations.  He  creates  characters 
with  a  master  hand  confident  of  its  strength.  With  all 
that,  he  never  became  a  "  leading "  writer.  He  is  a 
member  of  the  classic  Pantheon,  to  be  sure,  he  is  studied 
in  schools,  he  is  recognized  as  the  creator  of  at  least  one 
national  type,  yet  he  never  was  a  priest  in  the  temple  of 
the  Russian  spirit.  This  is  because  he  lacks  that  spirit- 
uality which  Russians  were  (and  are)  wont  to  seek  for 
in  the  works  of  their  artists.  He  is,  as  it  were,  too  close 
to  the  ground,  though  he  manages  to  transform  his  ground 
into  sheer  beauty.  Lacking  the  exhilaration  of  spiritual- 
ity and,  besides,  lacking  in  heartfelt  sympathy  for  the 
new  social  characters  who  then  appeared  in  Russian  life 
equipped  with  a  luring  ideal,  Gontcharov  naturally  could 
not  find  the  response  which  was  due  to  his  great  artistic 
talent.  It  is  only  now  that  we  are  in  a  position  to  over- 
look his  defects  and  to  enjoy  thoroughly  the  permanent 
beauty  of  his  writings. 

Among  his  defects,  one  deserves  particular  mention, — 
his  inability  to  draw  a  new  character.  Thus,  whenever 
Gontcharov  tried  to  picture  a  strong,  self-assured,  prac- 
tical man  of  affairs,  a  type  which  attracted  his  attention 
in  a  high  degree,  he  inevitably  failed.  The  explanation 
lies  in  the  fact  that  new  phenomena  were  not  as  close 
to  his  soul  as  the  well-known  old. 

"  Gontcharov  is,  above  all,  a  master  of  the  genre,  here  is  his 
strength,  here  belong  his  best  pages.  He  loves  a  man  in  his 
domestic  environment,  among  the  various  trifles  of  a  peaceful 
everyday  existence,  in  his  cosy  native  corner.  He  is  a  poet 
of  the  room,  a  singer  of  the  house  ...  He  pictures  with 
pleasure  nature  morte  and  all  that  approaches  it  in  simplicity 


I.  A.  GONTCHAROV  73 

of  mind  .  .  .  He  is  interested  in  a  bright  open  life  where 
houses  and  souls  are  transparent  ...  A  poet  of  the  ordi- 
nary, he  knows  how  to  extract  warmth  and  beauty  from  house- 
hold prose  ...  On  the  other  hand,  the  further  he  moves 
from  the  uncultured,  primitive,  elementary  man,  the  paler 
and  more  tiresome  becomes  his  brush." 

J.  ElCHENWALD. 

"  In  his  wonderfully  sober  attitude  towards  the  world,  Gon- 
tcharov  approaches  Pushkin.  Turgenev  is  intoxicated  with 
beauty,  Dostoyevsky,  with  the  sufferings  of  men,  Leo  Tolstoi, 
with  a  thirst  for  truth;  all  of  them  look  at  life  from  a  certain 
angle.  Reality  in  their  work  becomes  slightly  distorted,  like 
the  outlines  of  things  on  a  disturbed  surface  of  water. 

"  Gontcharov  knows  of  no  intoxication.  Life  projects  it- 
self into  his  soul  with  imperturbable  clarity,  as  the  tiniest  grass- 
blades  or  the  distant  stars  are  reflected  in  a  deep  forest  spring 
shielded  from  the  wind.  The  sobriety,  simplicity,  and  health 
of  this  powerful  talent  have  something  refreshing.  However 
beautiful  may  be  the  works  of  other  modern  writers,  all  of 
them  have  some  dark  corner  breathing  cold  and  horror.  Gon- 
tcharov has  no  such  corners.  All  the  monumental  structure 
of  his  epics  is  lit  by  an  even  light  of  intelligent  love  for  human 
life."  D.  Merezhkovsky. 

1.    Oblomov.    Novel.     (1859.) 

This  is  Gontcharov's  principal  work.  It  is  a  novel  of 
will,  or  rather  a  novel  studying  the  lack  of  will.  Oblomov 
has  a  beautiful  soul.  He  is  capable  of  the  most  noble 
emotions.  His  intentions  are  always  good.  The  storms 
aroused  in  his  soul  are  genuine.  They  shake  him  deeply. 
He  is  honest,  good-hearted,  idealistically  inclined.  But 
— he  is  Oblomov.  He  is  lazy.  He  is  inertia  incarnated. 
From  his  thoughts  and  emotions  there  are  no  wires  to 
the  mechanism  of  action.  Oblomov's  life  is  followed  up 
by  Gontcharov  from  his  childhood  until  the  time  when 
he  definitely  "  settled  down  "  (if  this  term  can  properly 


74        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

be  applied  to  a  man  who  spent  all  his  life  "  lying  on  one 
side,"  as  the  Russian  says).  The  dramatic  moment  of 
Oblomov's  life  arrives  when  he  falls  in  love  with  the 
charming  young  Olga.  It  is  only  natural  that  this  love 
should  end  in  nothing.  Olga  marries  Stoltz,  a  Russian 
of  German  descent,  who  is  just  the  opposite  of  Oblomov 
and  who  conducts  business  on  a  large  scale. 

Oblomov  represented  a  trait  of  character  so  well  known 
and  so  common  in  Russia  that  nearly  every  Russian 
recognized  himself  or  his  friends  in  the  hero  of  the  novel. 
Oblomov  possesses  inertia  in  an  excessive  measure,  he  is 
pure  inertia.  It  may  be  questioned  whether  there  ever 
existed  a  real  human  being  personifying  inertia  to  such 
an  extent;  this,  however,  does  not  diminish  the  realistic 
value  of  Oblomov.  Russians  speak  of  Oblomov  as  of  a 
man  they  know  personally,  much  in  the  same  way  as 
Englishmen  speak  of  Micawber. 

"Apathy,  peaceful,  placid,  smiling,  feeling  no  urge  to  get 
out  of  inertia,  this  is  Oblomovism,  as  Gontcharov  called  it, 
this  is  a  disease  facilitated  by  Slav  nature  and  the  conditions 
of  our  society.  The  development  of  this  disease  was  traced  by 
Gontcharov  in  his  novel.  The  author's  tremendous  idea,  in 
all  its  bigness  and  beauty,  was  put  in  a  perfectly  adequate 
framework."  D.  I.  Pisarev. 

"  The  introduction  of  the  Oblomov  type  into  Russian  litera- 
ture was  of  tremendous  importance.  It  recorded  a  funda- 
mental Russian  quality,  a  national  attribute  which  hampered 
the  progress  of  Russian  life.  A  formula  was  given,  character- 
izing a  large  group  of  people  who  had  reached  a  stage  where 
the  desire  for  progressive  work,  not  enmeshed  in  routine,  be- 
came imperative,  where,  however,  the  ability  to  act  was  still 
lacking."  E.  A.  Lyatzky. 


I.  A.  GONTCHAROV  75 

2.     The  Precipice.    Novel.     (1869.) 

A  world  of  types;  among  them  the  old  and  attractive 
grandmother  who  incarnates  the  best  traits  of  the  patriar- 
chal world;  a  nihilist  of  the  brand  quite  common  in  the 
sixties,  with  an  uncouth  appearance  and  a  harmonious 
program  for  social  reform;  two  young  sisters,  of  whom 
one  is  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  restlessness,  striving  to 
unknown  horizons,  while  the  other  is  all  domesticity  and 
has  the  charm  of  sedate  virtue;  an  artist,  a  Russian  genius 
lacking  the  will  to  make  the  best  of  his  great  abilities,  etc. 
The  novel  bears  the  clear  marks  of  a  transitional  period. 

[Another   well-known   novel   by   Gontcharov,   An    Ordinary 
Story.] 


I.  S.  TURGENEV  (i 818-1883) 

One  of  the  few  central  figures  in  Russian  literature. 
Creator  of  a  great  school.  An  inexhaustible  source  of 
beauty  and  inspiration.  Turgenev's  language  is  like 
music.  His  pictures  are  tender  pastels.  His  characters 
are  drawn  with  a  firm  and  loving  hand.  His  range  of  ob- 
servation is  wide,  reaching  from  the  first  dawn  of  love 
in  a  budding  maiden  heart  to  the  agony  of  a  fighter  for 
freedom  who  has  lost  his  path  in  the  maze  of  life;  from 
the  dream-like  haze  of  spring  over  tender  flower-heads 
to  the  trumpet-call  of  life  under  glaring  sunlight.  Tur- 
genev  is  the  poet  of  youth  and  love,  a  guide  through  the 
sweet  mysteries  of  women's  souls,  an  interpreter  of  the 
most  gentle,  delicate  emotions,  a  garden  full  of  quaint 
beauty.  Yet  Turgenev  is  at  the  same  time  in  the  very 
midst  of  social  life,  recording  the  political  and  social 
movements  of  his  time,  giving  voice  and  artistic  interpre- 
tation to  the  foremost  ideas  of  the  society  he  lived  in. 
This  society  is  mainly  composed  of  well-educated,  pro- 
gressive noblemen,  who  are  much  concerned  with  the 
fate  of  the  "  people,"  yet  never  lose  the  essential  qualities 
of  noble  gentlemen.  The  other  classes  of  the  Russian 
people  are  given  only  a  secondary  place  in  Turgenev's 
works. 

"  Several  generations  owe  him  a  part  of  their  intellectual 
substance,  as  their  growth  was  and  is  still  going  on  under  the 
unchanging  powerful  influence  of  the  psychic  impulses  which 
are  diffused  in  his  works.  People  received  their  education  at 
the  hands  of  Turgenev,  from  him  they  learned  how  to  love 

76 


I.  S.  TURGENEV  77 

and  feel,  and  there  are  perceptions  of  which  Turgenev  will 
never  cease  to  be  the  great  master.  These  are  the  beauty  and 
poetry  of  life,  the  charm  of  intimate  human  feelings,  and  the 
value  of  a  free  personality  rising  to  a  feeling  of  broad  humani- 
tarian solidarity."  A.  E.  Gruzinsky. 

1.  Short  Stories.    (1843-1883.) 

"  Turgenev  created  a  whole  world  of  the  most  diversified 
figures,  full  of  life  and  color;  he  sketched  several  important 
moments  of  our  cultural  progress,  and  gave  splendid  descrip- 
tions of  the  old  life.  Yet,  his  main  subjects  are  intimate  psy- 
chological experiences.  The  broad  outline  of  an  entire  epoch 
which  we  find  in  his  works,  is  composed  of  little  studies  and 
miniatures  selected  and  executed  with  the  most  unusual  sensi- 
tiveness and  skill.  A  note  is  incessantly  sounding  through  all 
his  writings,  a  peculiar  note  of  tender  lyrical  sadness." 

A.  E.  Gruzinsky. 

2.  Diary  of  a  Sportsman.    Stories  and  sketches.    (1852.) 
It  has  been  said  that  Turgenev's  Diary  added  more 

to  the  campaign  for  the  liberation  of  the  serfs  than  all 
the  political  activities  of  the  progressive  factions  com- 
bined. Turgenev  performed  a  true  human  service.  He 
gave  a  series  of  sketches  of  rural  life  thrown  against  a 
background  of  Russian  nature  which  showed  that  the 
peasants,  "  our  younger  brethren,"  were  possessed  of  the 
same  human  qualities  as  the  "  better  "  classes.  It  seems 
an  obvious  truth  in  our  days.  It  was  a  great  revelation 
in  1852.  Turgenev  did  not  idealize.  He  shed  no  cheap 
tears.  His  aim  was  not  to  arouse  pity.  He  was  funda- 
mentally an  artist.  He  touched  peasant  life  with  his 
artistic  wand,  and  the  world  stood  aghast  at  the  sight  of 
those  simple  men  and  women  whose  hearts  were  moved 
by  the  same  emotions,  whose  souls  were  craving  for  the 
same  truth,  beauty  and  good,  as  the  upper  classes.  It 
must  be  borne  in  mind,  however,  that  The  Diary  of  a 


78        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

Sportsman  is  not  a  book  written  with  a  conscious  social 
purpose.  In  no  sentence  has  Turgenev  betrayed  his 
political  tendency.  He  was  an  artist  above  all  things. 
His  love  was  his  best  argument.  His  artistic  sympathy 
with  the  objects  of  his  descriptions  was  his  best  political 
weapon. 

"  In  the  one  volume  of  The  Diary  of  a  Sportsman  you  have 
a  complete  representation  of  all  peasant  life  with  all  its  numer- 
ous miseries  and  few  joys.  You  can  observe  how  popular 
beliefs  are  being  formed,  how  popular  conceptions  are  being 
crystallized.  You  can  see  the  deep  patience  of  the  Russian 
people,  their  passive  heroism,  their  gloomy  good-nature,  and 
the  tenderness  of  their  hearts.  Looking  more  attentively  you 
will  easily  notice  their  intelligence,  their  common  sense  and 
capability  of  education.  .  .  .  You  will  gain  a  very  clear  idea 
of  the  moral  countenance  of  the  genuine  '  black  earth ?  powers." 

S.  Vengerov. 

"  The  entire  work  is  dominated  by  the  broad  view  and 
peaceful  tone  of  an  artist  who  has  been  enchanted  by  Rus- 
sian rural  life  and  whose  aim  is  to  enchant  the  heart  of  the 
reader  by  its  simplicity,  its  humble  poetical  truthfulness.  The 
sketches  are  diversified,  and  they  still  give  an  idea  of  the 
people's  life  which  has  since  undergone  a  great  reform." 

V.  Burenin. 

"  The  Diary  of  a  Sportsman  contains  descriptions  of  Rus- 
sian landscapes  unsurpassed  in  Russian  literature.  No  lyrical 
poet  has  ever  found  words  more  tender,  colors  more  refined, 
than  Turgenev  in  those  prose  sketches  of  Russian  nature. 

"We  find  here  a  live  sympathy  with  nature,  a  complete 
understanding  of  its  beauty,  a  freshness  of  genuine  sentiment. 
In  his  manner  we  hear  a  voice  of  sympathy  so  gentle,  so  fine, 
that  sometimes  it  grows  akin  to  pain,  passion,  submission. 
Poetry  of  this  kind  is  characterized  not  by  striking  power,  but 
by  refinement  and  lucidity  of  colors." 

A.  Grigoryev. 


I.  S.  TURGENEV  79 

3.  A  Nobleman's  Nest.    Novel.     (1859.) 

"No  other  work  of  Turgenev's  is  full  of  so  much  ardent 
faith,  none  is  so  permeated  with  a  lyric  sympathy,  as  is  A 
Nobleman's  Nest.  Here  we  have  the  purest  figure  of  a 
woman  after  Pushkin's  Tatyana,  the  figure  of  Liza;  here  we 
have  Lavretzky,  the  hero  in  whom  Turgenev  trusted  most, 
of  whom  he  expected  most  in  the  future.  In  drawing  him,  the 
poet  gave  a  beautiful  historic  and  genre  picture  of  all  the  ele- 
ments that  composed  Russian  society,  as  if  to  show  that  he  is 
the  outcome  of  a  great  historic  process. 

"  A  bright  tone  is  sounding  throughout  the  entire  work  from 
the  beginning  to  the  very  end  where  the  aging  Lavretzky 
greets  the  budding  life  of  the  new  generation. 

"A  Nobleman's  Nest  is  a  novel  in  the  best  sense  of  the 
word;  Russian  life  is  reflected  in  it  from  various  angles;  here 
we  see  Westerners  and  Slavophils,  the  Petersburg  bureaucracy 
with  its  detached  haughtiness,  the  life  of  the  village  and  town, 
and  all  those  elements  of  the  present  and  the  past  which  make 
up  our  actual  environment." 

A.  Nezelyonov. 

4.  Fathers  and  Children.    Novel.     (1862.) 

The  years  immediately  following  the  abolition  of  serf- 
dom in  Russia  (in  1861)  were  years  of  great  intellectual 
unrest.  The  bonds  of  an  ancient  patriarchal  regime  were 
broken.  The  beginnings  of  a  transition  to  modern 
economic  and  social  conditions  were  felt  as  an  urge  to 
something  vast,  though  indefinite.  A  new  man  appeared 
on  the  scene:  an  "  intellectual,"  though  not  a  son  of  the 
manor;  a  member  of  the  lower  classes,  though  claiming 
equality  with  the  nobles,  nay,  asserting  his  superiority 
over  the  "  idle  rich."  The  new  man  had  education,  but 
cared  little  for  good  manners;  he  loved  culture,  but  had 
no  respect  for  traditions.  His  intellectual  guides  were 
the  materialistic  philosophers  Buechner  and  Moleschott 
with  their  crude  naturalism/  whereas  the  idols  of  the 


80        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

former  generation  had  been  Hegel,  Schelling,  Pushkin. 
The  new  man  claimed  to  believe  in  the  results  of  experi- 
ence only,  to  deny  the- refinements  of  an  idealistic  spirit. 
This  is  why  this  brand  of  intellectuals  soon  became  known 
as  Nihilists.  Fathers  and  Children  introduces  the  new 
type  of  Nihilist  as  contrasted  to  the  old  "beautiful 
souls  "  of  the  patriarchal  manor.  Bazarov,  the  hero,  is  a 
student  of  natural  science,  a  man  who  declares  that  the 
world  is  a  vast  workshop  and  the  man  is  born  to  be  a 
master  there. 

No  type  in  Russian  literature  has  aroused  so  much 
heated  comment  as  Bazarov. 

"  The  succession  of  generations — this  is  the  main  subject 
of  the  novel.  Yet  the  reader  feels  that  he  has  to  do  with 
human  life  in  its  broadest  and  fullest  meaning.  Behind  the 
mirage  of  external  actions  there  is  a  stream  of  life  so  deep,  so 
inexhaustible,  that  compared  with  it  all  those  characters  and 
happenings  shrink  into  insignificance." 

N.  Strakhov. 

" '  I  am  an  adherent  of  the  negating  tendencies/  says  Baza- 
rov. '  It  gives  me  pleasure  to  reject,  it  suits  best  the  construc- 
tion of  my  brain.  That's  all!  *  As  an  empiric,  Bazarov 
recognizes  only  those  things  whose  existence  can  be  proved 
by  his  senses.  Bazarov  needs  nobody,  he  is  afraid  of  no 
one,  he  has  no  love  for  anybody,  and  therefore  knows  no 
mercy.  His  ironical  attitude  towards  all  sorts  of  emotions, 
towards  sentimental  dreams,  lyrical  strivings,  confessions,  is 
a  manifestation  of  his  inner  cynicism.  The  crude  expression 
of  this  irony,  the  unwarranted  and  aimless  roughness  of  his 
manners,  mark  his  outward  cynicism." 

D.  Pisarev. 

5.    New  Earth.    Novel.    (1877.) 

The  intellectual  unrest  of  the  sixties  ripened  into  revo- 
lutionary activities  at  the  beginning  of  the  seventies.    A 


I.  S.  TURGENEV  81 

number  of  young  men  and  women  of  the  educated  class 
went  into  the  Russian  villages  to  conduct  revolutionary 
propaganda  among  the  peasants.  The  revolutionists, 
known  as  Narodniki,  idealized  the  qualities  of  the  people 
(narod).  They  believed  that  the  Russian  village  com- 
munity contained  the  nucleus  of  a  better  social  order 
based  on  equality  and  cooperation.  They  saw  in  the 
village  an  ideal  life  of  truthfulness  and  peace.  It  was, 
therefore,  natural  for  them  to  try  and  adopt  the  same 
mode  of  living  as  the  peasants.  They  called  it,  "  to  be- 
come simple."  Altogether  it  was  a  naive  movement,  full 
of  the  beauty  and  daring  of  inspired  youth,  though  the 
consequences — imprisonment  and  death  for  many — were 
by  no  means  simple. 

New  Earth  depicts  a  few  intellectuals  of  this  Narodniki 
movement.  It  seems  that  Turgenev  has  minimized  the 
extent  and  the  seriousness  of  the  revolutionary  activities, 
partly,  perhaps,  because  he  had  to  reckon  with  the  re- 
quirements of  the  censor.  At  any  rate,  the  novel  reflects 
truly  the  atmosphere  of  the  time  and  the  psychology  of 
the  revolutionary  heroes,  as  well  as  the  bureaucrats.  The 
figure  of  Marianna,  the  girl  revolutionist  who  "  becomes 
simple  "  for  the  sake  of  the  cause,  is  one  of  the  loveliest 
portraits  in  Turgenev's  gallery. 

"  The  facts  of  the  movement,  the  methods  and  the  practice 
of  the  propaganda  and  conspiracies  as  described  in  the  New 
Earth,  coincide  in  all  particulars  with  the  materials  revealed 
in  the  case  of  Netchayev.  The  types  of  the  revolutionaries 
are  well  represented.  Turgenev  gives  a  true  reflection  of  the 
psychology  of  the  movement." 

A.  E.  Gruzinsky. 

[Nearly  every  work  of  Turgenev's  is  of  great  and  lasting 
value,  and  should  be  read.  We  call  special  attention  to  his 
delightful  novels,  Rudin,  On  the  Eve,  and  to  his  Poems  in 
Prose.] 


V.  L.  GARSHIN  (1855-1888) 

There  is  a  story  by  Garshin,  The  Red  Flower.  A  man 
in  an  insane  asylum  has  seen  a  red  flower  down  in  the 
garden.  To  him  the  flower  has  a  deep  significance.  It 
is  evil  incarnate.  "  It  has  gathered  all  the  blood  of  in- 
nocent victims  (that  is  why  it  is  so  red),  all  the  tears, 
all  the  misery  of  mankind.  It  is  a  mysterious  dreadful 
being,  the  antithesis  of  God,  Ahriman  in  an  innocent 
shape."  The  man  decides  to  pluck  the  flower,  to  kill 
it  and  thus  kill  evil.  It  is  a  hard  task.  The  window- 
bars  are  strong.  The  guards  are  cunning.  Moreover,  he 
knows  that  after  plucking  the  flower  he  will  have  to  hide 
it  on  his  breast  lest  it  shed  its  poison  into  the  world  with 
its  last  breath.  He  knows  he  must  die.  But  this  gives 
him  superhuman  courage  and  strength.  "  The  evil  will 
permeate  his  very  heart,  his  soul.  It  will  be  conquered 
there  or  else  he  will  die  as  the  foremost  fighter  of  man- 
kind who  first  dared  to  challenge  all  the  evil  of  the 
world  at  once." 

The  man  undertakes  the  heroic  deed.  He  has  to  do  it 
alone  because  nobody  sees  the  meaning  of  the  flower,  no- 
body cares.  In  anguish  he  exclaims,  "  Why  do  they  not 
see  it?    I  do.    Can  I  go  on  living?  " 

Such  a  cry,  "  Why  do  they  not  see  it?  "  were  the 
stories  of  the  tragic  writer,  Garshin,  who  died  as  a  young 
man  in  an  insane  asylum.  He  was  a  typical  son  of  the 
eighties:  sad,  subdued,  with  no  vigor,  with  no  hope  but 
full  of  great  yearning  for  beauty  and  humaneness  that 
cannotbe.    Garshin's  stories  are  delicately  carved.    Their 

82  ! 


V.  L.  GARSHIN  83 

lines  are  simple,  almost  naive,  and  each  is  vibrating  with 
intense  emotion.  Garshin  was  one  of  the  few  writers 
dearly  joved  by  intellectual  Russia.  This  young  man 
with  the  head  of  a  saint  and  deep  marks  of  suffering 
on  his  face,  appears  as  in  a  halo  of  devotion  and  admira- 
tion. He  died  too  young  for  his  talent  to  blossom  out 
in  full  power.  Yet  his  influence  on  Russia  was  unmistak- 
able. 

"  Garshin  lived  in  a  strange  spiritual  tension.  He  never 
wrote  calmly,  he  was  never  balanced.  Even  his  short  stories 
were  accompanied  by  a  great  mental  strain.  He  was  upset 
by  the  creations  of  his  own  fantasy.  This  is  why  his  stories 
are  so  deeply  lyrical,  why  they  are  full  of  unusual  trepidation. 
His  tone  quite  often  approaches  the  boundary  line  between 
lyrical  emotionalism  and  unhealthy  excitement.  However,  he 
is  endowed  with  a  wonderful  sense  of  subtle  distinctions  and 
he  never  oversteps  this  line." 

Vl.  G.  Korolenko. 

"  He  was  a  man  of  extraordinary  sensitiveness  and  alert- 
ness, one  of  those  souls  which  are  woven  of  the  '  best  ether  ^ 
a  natural  advocate  of  humanity.  The  sufferings  of  others 
evoked  in  him  an  unusually  keen  response.  It  was  his  nature 
to  respond  most  readily  to  human  suffering,  he  could  not  help 
it.  He  did  not  need  the  aid  of  cool  reflection,  the  reminder 
of  '  duty  *  to  sacrifice  himself  for  others,  to  be  heroic.  It 
was  his  own,  his  deepest  characteristic.  Garshin's  face  is  said 
to  have  borne  from  his  very  childhood  the  stamp  of  unusual 
1  unearthly  '  beauty.  The  same  stamp  marked  his  inner  self, 
and  is  manifest  in  his  work." 

E.  KOLTONOVSKAYA. 

Stories,  Vol.  1, 1883;  Vol.  II,  1885;  Vol.  Ill,  1888. 

Pain,  honesty,  chastity,  lucidity,  and  youthful  enthusi- 
asm characterize  these  stories. 


84        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

"  One  feature  impresses  itself  constantly  upon  the  reader 
of  Garshin's  stories,  whether  it  is  accentuated  or  not,  and  that 
is  grief  over  that  particular  and  ultimate  humiliation  which 
human  dignity  is  made  to  suffer  when  a  man  becomes  a  tool, 
a  subservient  part  of  an  organism.  We  loved  Garshin  just 
for  this  reminding  us  of  human  dignity,  for  this  original, 
deeply  personal  grief." 

N.   K.   MlKHAYLOVSKY. 

[Particular  attention  is  called  to  the  stories,  Four  Days,  A 
Coward,  Artists,  The  Red  Flower,  Attalea  Princeps,  Nadezhda 
Nikolayevna,  and  The  Signal.] 


S.  J.  NADSON  (1862-1887) 

Poet.  A  son  of  the  gloomy  eighties, — the  nightmare-like 
period  in  recent  Russian  history;  a  singer  of  the  intelli- 
gentzia's melancholy  and  broken  hopes.  In  Nadson's 
poetry  everything  is  somber,  subdued,  shrouded  in  the 
atmosphere  of  graves.  When  he  speaks  even  of  "  sacred 
hope  "  it  sounds  more  like  weak  resignation.  When  he 
says  "  Brother,  friend,  believe  in  a  beautiful  future,"  he 
himself  lacks  this  faith  or,  perhaps,  he  thinks  of  it  as  of 
some  remote  hazy  dream  that  has  no  substance.  When 
he  speaks  of  love,  it  is  "  love  for  the  broken,  the  suffering 
brothers."  Tiredness  marks  Nadson's  young  Muse.  It 
is  a  wounded  Muse,  craving  for  happiness  yet  ever  afraid 
even  of  a  ray  of  sunshine;  afraid  to  betray  the  eternal 
life-companion,  grief. 

"  The  flowers  have  faded,  the  lights  have  burnt  out, 
The  limitless  night  is  black  like  a  grave, — " 

this  is  the  leading  motive  in  the  sick  poetry  of  Nadson, 
the  poet  of  a  sick  generation. 

Lyrical  Poems.    (1878-1886.) 

Nadson's  poems  do  not  sparkle  with  vivid  colors.  It 
is  the  vehemence  of  his  lamentations,  his  animated  de- 
clamation that  is  their  greatest  value.  Nadson  is  more 
than  sincere.  He  is  almost  too  personal.  He  speaks  as 
if  a  brother  were  telling  a  brother  of  his  secret  pain  in 
the  silence  of  the  night.    Yet  his  language  is  much  poorer 

85 


86        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

than  that  of  the  classics  who  drew  their  words  and  pic- 
tures from  the  treasuries  of  folklore.  Notwithstanding 
artistic  defects,  Nadson  has  grown  to  be  one  of  the  most 
beloved  poets  read  by  young  and  old. 


TH.  I.  TYUTCHEV  (1803-1873) 

u  O  prophetic  soul  of  mine,  O  heart  full  of  alarm,  thou 
flutterest  as  on  the  threshold  of  a  double  existence!  Yes, 
thou  art  the  dwelling  place  of  two  worlds;  thy  day  is 
pained  and  passionate,  thy  dream  is  prophetic  and  un- 
clear as  the  revelation  of  the  spirits  .    .    . " * 

Thus  Tyutchev,  in  one  of  his  famous  poems,  formulated 
his  state  of  mind.  He  is  "  on  the  threshold  of  a  double 
existence."  His  "  day,"  the  surrounding  world,  the  life 
of  men,  is  entangled  and  meaningless;  society  is  the 
"  eternal  human  triviality";  the  judgment  of  the  world 
"  pulls  at  the  root  of  the  best  plants  "  of  life.  Man  in 
himself,  aside  from  human  aggregations,  isi  only  the 
shadow  of  a  passing  cloud.  His  very  existence  is  hardly 
more  than  an  illusion.  His  thought  resembles  the  ray  of 
a  fountain:  it  rises,  sparkles,  reaches  a  certain  height 
and  then  falls  down  only  to  begin  the  process  again. 
Human  thought  strives  towards  heaven,  yet  "  an  invisible 
and  fatal  hand  persistently  breaks  its  ray  and  glitters 
from  above  in  its  sparks."  Human  love  is  only  a  dream 
bound  to  end  in  bitter  awakening.  Man  is  a  discordant 
note  in  the  order  of  things. 

The  poet's  "  day,"  the  things  most  men  call  real,  are 
no  comfort  to  him.  Here  he  is  lonely  and  detached.  His 
real  life  is  in  his  "  night,"  in  his  "  sleep,"  in  his  "  dream," 
in  those  regions  which  cannot  be  reached  by  logic  or  per- 
ception and  are  accessible  only  to  intuition.  Here  the 
poet  touches  the  very  heart  of  existence,  the  life  of  the 

1  Literal  translation. 

87 


88        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

universe.  Contrary  to  man,  the  universe  is  eternal.  The 
universe  is  endowed  with  a  soul.  Nature  is  all-powerful. 
The  individual  phenomena  of  nature  are  manifestations 
of  universal  and  eternal  life.  Man  has  only  one  solace — 
to  fuse  with  nature,  to  melt  into  it,  to  abandon  himself 
in  its  incessant  flow.  Then  he  may  hear  the  roar  of  the 
original  chaos,  our  "native  chaos,"  the  beginning  and 
the  end  of  the  world,  the  dark  foundation  of  all. 

Yet  while,  the  poet  thus  approaches  the  boundaries  of 
forgetfulness,  of  the  great  "abyss,  all-devouring  and 
consoling,"  he  is  stirred  by  a  great  desire  for  happiness, 
for  joy,  for  love,  for  day-by-day  existence.  And  so  he  is 
torn  between  his  two  motherlands,  and,  steeped  in 
thought,  he  writes  at  intervals  his  short  and  quiet  poems 
which  fall  like  drops  of  moon-lit  water  into  a  deep  and 
silent  basin. 

Tyutchev  is  a  musing  poet.  He  knows  no  loud  notes. 
Poetic  expressions  are  foreign  to  him.  "  A  thought  when 
uttered  is  a  lie,"  he  says  in  one  of  his  poems.  He  wrote 
seldom,  and  he  wrote  for  himself,  as  if  trying  to  formulate 
in  solitude  what  was  happening  in  his  innermost  soul. 
His  poems  are  always  contemplations  of  a  succinct 
nature.  They  deal  with  the  fate  of  man  and  life. 
They  try  to  express  in  their  very  cadence  and  rhythm  the 
mood  of  their  author.  They  are  clear,  like  prisms  of  a 
strange  lucid  gem,  and  through  their  clearness  an  un- 
known world  is  visible  to  the  soul. 

It  is  only  recently  that  intellectual  Russia  began  to 
value  this  great  and  original  philosophical  poet.  Of  his 
contemporaries,  only  a  few  appreciated  the  depth  and 
beauty  of  his  creations.  This  was  partly  due  to  the 
unusual  qualities  in  his  poetry,  which  appeals  only  to  a 
refined  taste;  partly  to  the  small  volume  of  his  work 


TH.  I.  TYUTCHEV  89 

(some  three  hundred  short  poems  in  the  course  of  half 
a  century) ;  and  partly  to  the  fact  that,  politically,  Tyut- 
chev,  as  a  diplomat  and  official,  belonged  to  the  reaction- 
ary camp.  Only  with  the  growth  of  symbolism  in  Rus- 
sia, the  new  school l  began  to  study  Tyutchev  with  love 
and  admiration  and  to  interpret  his  contribution  to  Rus- 
sian spirit.  The  new  school  considers  itself  the  successor 
of  Tyutchev.  It  can  hardly  be  said  that  Tyutchev  was 
a  symbolist  in  the  modern  sense  of  the  word,  yet  careful 
study  discloses  in  his  work  many  elements  of  what  is 
now  called  impressionism. 

Tyutchev  is  "  a  teacher  of  poetry  for  poets,"  to  use 
the  expression  of  the  critic  Gornfeld.  "  In  Tyutchev's 
poetry,"  says  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  new  school,  Valery 
Bryusov,  "  Russian  verse  reached  a  refinement,  an  ?  ethe- 
real height '  [Foeth's  words]  which  was  hitherto  un- 
known. Side  by  side  with  Pushkin,  the  creator  of  our 
real  classic  poetry,  stands  Tyutchev  as  the  great  master 
and  originator  of  a  poetry  of  allusions." 

Tyutchev  is  a  universal  poet.  What  moves  him  is 
common  to  all  the  world.  Still  his  language,  his  manner 
of  expression,  the  very  music  of  his  soul  are  unmistakably 
Russian. 

"  Amazing  is  Tyutchev's  ability  to  abandon  himself  in  the 
most  abstract  ideas  which  would  seem  foreign  to  life.  The 
finest  dialectic  constructions  of  the  mind  burn  in  him  with 
a  magic  brilliance.  He  was  in  a  high  degree  possessed  of  that 
quality  which  Dostoyevsky  called  '  the  wit  of  a  deep  feeling/ 
1  To  feel  a  thought '  is  in  Dostoyevsky's  opinion  the  modern 
form  of  passion.  Tyutchev  is  in  the  power  of  these  intellec- 
tual passions,  and  what  a  chill  they  sometimes  breathe  in  his 
works!     There  was,  however,  no  discord  in  him  between  the 

1  See  Chapter  II. 


9o        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

inspiration  of  an  artist  and  the  sober  penetration  of  a  wizard. 
Both  faculties  harmonized  in  deepest  unity  and  most  intimate 
accord."  D.  S.  Darsky. 

"  Tyutchev  was  deeply  convinced  that  nature  is  animated; 
this  was  to  him  not  a  mere  fancy,  but  a  conscious  belief,  and 
so  he  was  spared  that  duality  of  thought  and  feeling  which 
was  the  curse  of  artists  and  poets  from  the  end  of  the  last 
[eighteenth]  century  up  to  recent  times.  Tyutchev's  mind 
was  in  complete  accord  with  his  inspiration:  his  poetry  was 
full  of  conscious  thought,  and  his  thought  found  only  a  poetic, 
i.e.,  an  inspired  and  perfect  expression.  Probably  nobody  has 
reached  so  deeply  as  our  poet  to  the  dark  root  of  the  world's 
existence;  nobody  has  felt  so  strongly  or  conceived  so  distinctly 
that  mysterious  foundation  of  all  life,  of  nature  as  well  as 
of  humanity,  on  which  is  based  the  meaning  of  the  cosmic 
process,  the  fate  of  the  human  soul,  and  the  entire  history  of 
mankind.  Here  is  the  key  to  all  his  poetry,  the  source  of 
its  significance  and  enchanting  originality. 

"  Chaos,  i.e.,  negative  infinity,  the  yawning  abyss  containing 
every  madness  and  ugliness,  demoniacal  impulses  which  re- 
volt against  everything  positive  and  dutiful,  this  is  the  deep- 
est essence  of  the  world's  soul  and  the  basis  of  all  creation. 
The  cosmic  process  leads  this  chaotic  elemental  power  into 
a  general  scheme,  subjecting  it  to  the  laws  of  reason,  gradually 
embodying  in  it  the  ideal  contents  of  existence,  giving  this  wild 
life  meaning  and  beauty.  Yet  even  then  the  chaos  makes  it- 
self felt  in  impulses  and  movements  of  revolt.  This  presence 
of  the  chaotic,  irrational  elements  in  the  depth  of  existence, 
lends  the  various  natural  phenomena  that  freedom  and  power 
the  absence  of  which  would  mean  the  absence  of  life  and 
beauty.  In  depicting  such  phenomena  of  nature  where  the 
dark  foundation  is  felt  most  distinctly,  Tyutchev  knows  no 
equal."  V.  Solovyov. 

"  One  idea  is  at  the  bottom  of  all  his  philosophic  thoughts 
and  moods,  the  idea  of  the  limitations  of  human  personality 
...  A  man  can  find  real  happiness  only  in  going  away  from 
life.    Where?     First  of  all,  into  solitude.    The  poet  finds  a 


TH.  I.  TYUTCHEV  91 

number  of  refuges:  nature,  night,  silence;  all  this  can  detach 
us  from  life  and  give  us  an  independent  and  satisfying  exist- 
ence. 

"  The  thing  Tyutchev  calls  silence  has  nothing  to  do  with 
gloom  or  lack  of  sociability.  The  limitations  of  human  per- 
sonality are  most  clearly  manifest  in  the  impossibility  of  ex- 
pressing our  thought.  A  man  can  think  only  with  himself  and 
for  himself:  the  soul  conceals  an  entire  world  of  '  mysteriously 
magic  thoughts '  which  '  ripen  in  the  soul's  depth  ' ;  they  are 
1  drowned  by  external  noise,  disturbed  by  the  light  of  day.' 
When  these  thoughts  have  ripened,  they  cannot  be  shared  with 
others,  because  others  would  not  understand,  because  a  heart 
cannot  tell  itself  .    .    . 

"  To  detach  oneself  from  the  world,  to  '  live  alone  within 
himself ' — and  to  say  nothing,  this  is  what  '  silence '  means 
to  Tyutchev.  This  is  why  he  longs  for  the  quiet  of  the  night 
when  he  can  return  to  his  native  world,  the  world  of  penetra- 
tion into  the  hidden  problems  of  existence.  Nobody  has  gone 
deeper  into  the  mood  of  this  dark  and  pensive  '  hour  of  won- 
ders and  visions '  when  '  the  living  chariot  of  the  cosmos  rolls 
openly  in  the  sanctum  of  heaven. '  The  world  becomes  silent; 
consciousness  has  left  it.  '  Only  gods  stir  the  Muse's  maiden 
soul  with  prophetic  dreams.' " 

A.  G.  Gornfeld. 

Lyrical  Poems.    (1820-1873.) 

No  words  can  describe  the  subtle  charm  of  Tyutchev's 
poems.  They  are  strong  and  delicate,  emotional  and  re- 
strained, almost  cool  yet  saturated  with  life.  They  give 
a  strange  spiritual  intoxication  similar  to  the  sensation 
of  awakening  in  new  realms.  They  are  not  always  perfect 
in  form,  yet  this  very  imperfection  makes  them  closer 
to  our  soul.  They  are  so  human  and  yet  they  transfer 
us  instantly  into  vast  and  serene  eternity. 

"  Two  years  ago,  on  a  quiet  autumn  night,  I  stood  in  the 
dark  passage  of  the  Colosseum  looking  through  one  of  the 
apertures  into  the  starry  sky.    Big  stars,  intent  and  luminous, 


92        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

looked  into  my  eyes.  As  I  was  examining  the  delicate  azure, 
new  stars  appeared  looking  at  me  as  mysterioulsy  and  elo- 
quently as  the  first.  Beyond  them,  in  the  depth,  more  and 
more  stars  were  twinkling,  gradually  swimming  forward  in 
their  turn,  encased  in  the  black  mass  of  the  walls.  My  eyes 
saw  only  a  small  part  of  the  sky,  yet  I  felt  it  was  boundless 
and  there  was  no  end  to  its  beauty.  With  a  similar  feeling 
I  open  Tyutchev's  poems.  How  is  it  possible  to  put  within 
narrow  limits  (I  am  speaking  of  the  small  size  of  the  book) 
so  much  beauty,  depth,  power!  " 

A.  A.  Foeth. 

"  Tyutchev's  poems  on  nature  are  almost  always  a  passion- 
ate confession  of  love.  The  greatest  happiness  a  man  can  reach 
is,  in  his  opinion,  to  enjoy  the  various  manifestations  of  na- 
ture's life.  His  most  sacred  wish  is  '  to  drink  all  day  the 
warm  air  of  spring  '  in  '  perfect  idleness/  to  '  follow  the  clouds 
in  the  sky  above.'  He  is  convinced  that  joys  of  paradise  are 
nil  compared  with  '  the  blossoming  joy  of  May '  ...  He 
sees  in  nature  not  only  '  happiness,'  '  charm,'  '  enchantment,' 
but  something  higher  than  human  life,  something  divine,  holy. 
The  spring  he  expressly  calls  '  divinity.'  The  mountain  sum- 
mits he  calls  '  divinely  native ';  Mont  Blanc  seems  to  him  an 
1  unearthly  revelation';  in  the  flashes  of  heat-lightning  he 
guesses  the  solution  of  some  *  mysterious  affair ',  even  the 
autumnal  slumber  of  the  forest  falling  asleep  before  winter 
seems  to  him  '  prophetic'  " 

V.  Bryusov. 

The  most  beautiful  and  profound  of  Tyutchev's  poems 
on  nature,  however,  are  those  where  he  melts  into  it,  los- 
ing consciousness  and  the  sense  of  his  own  personality, 
feeling  himself  one  particle  in  the  great  mystery  of  Life. 


COUNT  ALEXEY  TOLSTOI  (1817-1875) 

Poet  and  dramatist.  Contrary  to  the  main  current  of 
Russian  literature,  Alexey  Tolstoi  was  less  concerned  with 
social  problems  or  with  the  actual  life  of  the  people  than 
with  beauty  for  beauty's  sake.  He  called  himself  a 
bard  who  carried  beauty's  banner  high.  His  slogan  was 
"  row  fearlessly  in  the  name  of  the  beautiful,  against  the 
current."  As  to  the  two  warring  camps,  the  Westerners 
and  Slavophils,  he  declared  he  was  "  no  fighter  in  either 
camp,  only  a  casual  guest."  The  same  thing  may  be  said 
of  his  relation  to  the  two  camps  of  progressivism  and 
conservatism  in  Russia.  Neither  was  his  realm.  What 
attracted  him  most  was  a  beautiful  word-picture,  a  re- 
fined emotion  expressed  in  a  harmonious  rhythm,  an 
attractive  story  well  told.  Yet,  he  was  thoroughly  na- 
tional. He  was  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  folk-lyricism. 
He  draws  upon  the  rich  resources  of  ancient  folk-poetry. 
He  looked  upon  Russia  through  the  prism  of  old  folk- 
songs and  heroic  legends.  His  legends  and  ballads  of 
old  Russian  life  are  national  gems. 

"  As  a  poet,  Tolstoi  showed  that  a  man  can  serve  pure  art 
and  yet  not  disconnect  it  from  the  moral  meaning  of  life;  that 
art  must  be  free  from  things  base  and  false,  but  not  from 
ideal  contents  and  relation  to  life.  As  a  thinker,  he  expressed 
in  a  remarkably  clear  and  harmonious  poetical  form  the  old 
but  forever  true  Platonico-Christian  conception  of  the  world. 
As  a  patriot,  he  stood  for  the  very  thing  our  country  needs 
most, — and  moreover,  he  himself  represented  the  ideal  he 
stood  for, — the  live  power  of  a  free  personality ." 

Vl.  Solovyov. 
93 


94        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

i.   Lyrical  Poems.    (1850-1875.) 

"  In  his  lyrical  poems  A.  Tolstoi  charms  with  the  ear-caress- 
ing musical  quality  of  his  form  as  well  as  with  the  crystal- 
clear,  chaste  quality  of  his  inspirations.  The  oscillations  of 
feeling,  th6  capricious  curves  of  emotion,  are  reproduced  with 
the  graceful  simplicity  of  the  genuine  artist." 

Th.  D.  Batyushkcv. 

Imitations  of  folk-songs  occupy  a  prominent  place 
among  Tolstoi's  lyrical  poems. 

2.  John  of  Damascus.    Epic  poem.    (1859.) 

.  The  fight  between  inspiration  and  dogma,  between  the 
free  creative  human  personality  which  is  divine  in  itself, 
and  the  rigid  canons  of  a  church.  John  of  Damascus 
is  a  singer  by  the  grace  of  God;  he  has  the  power  to  move 
human  hearts  by  his  images  and  harmonies.  But  he  is  a 
monk.  The  Father  Superior  ordered  him  to  refrain  from 
making  songs.  Inspiration  comes  to  him  "  like  a  black 
cloud  "  which  he  cannot  resist,  yet  the  rules  of  the  mon- 
astery are  implacable.  Only  the  intervention  of  the  Holy 
Virgin  removes  finally  the  seal  from  his  lips.  "  God 
wishes  no  restriction  and  oppression  of  free  thought; 
born  free  in  the  soul,  it  should  not  die  in  fetters." 
This  is  one  of  the  most  impressive  works  of  Tolstoi. 

3.  Dramatic  Trilogy. 

The  Death  of  Ivan  the  Terrible.    (1866.) 

Tsar  Theodore.     (1868.) 

Tsar  Boris.     (1870.) 

Each  of  those  tragedies  has  become  an  integral  part 
of  the  Russian  repertoire.  The  old  Russian  life,  the 
language,  the  costumes,  are  reproduced  in  an  artistic 
way.    The  interest,  however,  centers  around  the  figures 


COUNT  ALEXEY  TOLSTOI  95 

of  the  Tsars  who  ruled  Russia  in  the  most  dramatic  times 
of  her  history. 

"  The  trilogy  has  been  denoted  as  national  drama  because 
it  lets  us  feel  the  '  national  traits  of  character  and  national 
conception  of  the  world '  and  because  it  puts  forward  one  of 
the  main  problems  of  our  history,  the  problem  of  autocracy, 
which  it  represented  in  three  different  manifestations:  in  the 
person  of  a  despot,  cruel  and  obsessed;  in  the  person  of  a 
Tsar  possessed  of  high  moral  qualities,  but  lacking  will-power 
and  enlightened  views;  and  in  the  person  of  a  Tsar  who  had 
a  strong  will  and  enlightened  views,  but  lacked  '  moral 
stamina.' " 

Th.  D.  Batyushkov. 

It  must  be  remarked,  however,  that  all  three  parts  of 
the  trilogy  represent,  first  of  all,  tragedies  of  human 
souls.  Autocracy  is  not  the  main  object  of  interest,  but 
the  conflicts  in  the  souls  of  the  characters.  A.  Tolstoi 
was  a  poet  "  who  derived  his  inspirations  principally 
from  the  data  of  personal  experience." 

[Other  works  of  interest:  Prince  Serebryany,a.  historic  novel; 
Don  Juan,  a  dramatic  poem.] 


A.  A.  FOETH-SHENSHIN  (182 0-1892) 

Poet.  The  most  talented  of  the  few  Russian  poets  who, 
about  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century,  proclaimed 
their  adherence  to  "pure  art."  In  Foeth's  opinion, 
poetry  could  have  nothing  to  do  with  political  or  social 
problems;  poetry  is  a  way  to  forget  the  burdens  of  prac- 
tical life.  "  It  was  our  wish,"  he  wrote,  "  to  turn  away 
from  those  burdens,  to  break  the  ice  of  everyday  monot- 
ony, so  that  we  may  breathe  for  a  moment  the  pure  and 
free  air  of  poetry." 

The  poet  is,  in  Foeth's  conception,  a  singer  of  winged 
sounds  which  grasp,  in  their  flight,  "  the  dark  delirium 
of  the  soul,  the  unclear  fragrance  of  the  grasses."  The 
poet's  attention  is  concentrated  on  his  inner  world,  as  he 
bears  in  his  breast,  "like  a  certain  Seraph,"  "a  fire 
stronger  and  more  brilliant  than  the  world." 

Foeth  adheres  faithfully  to  this  program.  In  his  poems 
he  tries  to  seize  the  most  delicate  moods  of  the  human 
soul,  the  cravings  of  an  instant,  the  frailest  shades  of 
emotion.  He  would  like  to  fathom  the  "  eternal  depths 
of  existence,"  where  words  are  numb,  where  "  not  a  song 
do  we  hear,  but  the  soul  of  the  singer,"  where  "  the  spirit 
throws  off  the  superflous  body." 

Two  ways  lead  him  into  those  ethereal  regions  which 
to  him  are  the  heights  of  reality:  nature  and  love.  Foeth 
is  the  sweet-voiced  Russian  nightingale  whose  songs 
caress  our  soul  as  miracles  of  nature  and  love  inseparably 
blended.  Foeth  almost  dissolves,  melts  away,  in  the  soft 
embraces  of  nature.    And  Foeth  rises  to  hazy,  luminous 

96 


A.  A.  FOETH-SHENSHIN  97 

worlds  on  the  wings  of  love.  Over  all  these  wonders,  a 
great  sun  is  shining,  its  rays  almost  maddening  the  poet 
with  joy.  And  beauty  reigns.  The  world  is  full  of 
beauty;  love  is  beauty,  death  is  beauty.  The  gladness 
of  harmony  is  without  end. 

Foeth  is  the  most  ecstatic  of  Russian  poets.  Inspira- 
tion is  no  metaphor  to  him.  He  is  overcharged  with 
emotion.  He  is  all  in  the  grip  of  his  visions,  however 
evanescent.  He  hears  voices  "  from  other  shores."  His 
eyes  are  always  turned  skyward.  His  lips  are  whisper- 
ing a  half-prayer,  half-song.  He  would  be  glad  to  do 
away  with  words  altogether.  Words  are  too  definite 
and- heavy.  Music,  perhaps,  is  the  better  means.  Music 
is  the  language  of  the  soul.  Foeth  resembles  a  priest 
in  the  temple  of  the  Universe.  He  kneels  before  the 
altar,  his  heart  is  aching  with  gladness,  he  is  ready  "  to 
die  with  every  sound"  of  his  song,  his  breast  is  "too 
narrow  for  his  heart." 

Foeth's  are  not  poems  of  action.  They  are  revelations. 
They  are  the  flashes  of  mysterious  light  which  allow  the 
human  soul  to  reach  in  one  moment  the  deepest  elusive 
truths.  They  are  outbursts  of  sudden  self-realization 
when  a  man  feels  himself  an  instrument  in  the  great 
mysterious  harmony  of  life. 

Foeth's  poems  are  unusually  fresh.  They  remind  one 
of  a  flower  bathed  in  dew.  They  are  immaculate  in 
purity,  sincerity,  perfection.  They  seem  to  be  not  a 
creation  of  human  effort,  but  natural  organisms  born  as 
an  entity.    Yet,  the  language  is  not  always  faultless. 

Foeth  wrote  in  his  youth  and  he  wrote  in  his  old  age, 
and  the  older  he  became,  the  deeper  and  more  spiritual 
were  his  poems,  and  the  more  harmonious  strength  vi- 
brated through  their  tender  fabric.     Not  till  the  very 


g8        GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

year  of  his  death  did  his  emotions  become  less  acute 
or  less  noble.  He  saw  death  approaching,  yet  to  him  it 
was  rest,  winter-sleep,  a  return  to  the  sources  of  life. 
His  latest  poems  are,  perhaps,  the  best. 

It  is  hardly  conceivable  that  a  poet  of  such  genuine 
spirituality  and  talent  should  not  have  gained  wide  rec- 
ognition in  Russian  intellectual  circles.  Yet  such  was 
the  strength  of  the  other,  the  "  civic  protest "  trend  of 
poetry,  as  represented  by  Nekrasov,  that  for  many  years 
intellectual  Russia  only  scoffed  at  this  poet.  This  at- 
titude was  partly  due  to  the  notorious  reactionary  views 
of  Foeth,  who,  for  example,  was  against  the  abolition  of 
serfdom.  Only  towards  the  end  of  his  life  did  his  fame 
begin  to  grow.  Even  in  the  twentieth  century  he  is  hardly 
valued  according  to  his  merits. 

i.   Lyrical  Poems.    (1840-1892.) 

"  Foeth's  power  lies  in  his  ability  to  penetrate  into  the 
deepest  recesses  of  our  soul.  Inspiration  and  faith  in  the 
power  of  inspiration,  a  deep  understanding  of  natural  beauty, 
and  the  consciousness  of  the  fact  that  the  prose  of  life  seems 
prose  only  to  those  unillumined  by  poetry,  these  qualities 
reveal  Foeth  as  a  pure  poet  of  high  standing.  He  possesses 
a  keen  eye  that  discovers  poetry  in  ordinary  objects,  and  he 
is  animated  by  an  unflinching  artistic  endurance  which  knows 
no  rest  till  a  given  poetic  moment  is  expressed  with  unusual 
accuracy.  In  his  poems,  the  elusive  is  snatched;  poetry  is 
embodied  in  a  harmonious  word;  the  most  nebulous  moments 
of  our  life  are  made  clear.  He  appears  to  represent  what  every 
poet  of  powerful  gifts  ought  to  be:  a  seer  more  than  anything 
else,  an  interpreter  of  poetry  in  our  everyday  life." 

A.  V.  Druzhinin. 

"  He  does  not  present  to  us  a  feeling  in  its  various  phases, 
he  does  not  picture  a  passion  in  its  definite  forms,  in  the 
fullness  of  its  development;  he  gets  hold  of  only  one  moment 


A.  A.  FOETH-SHENSHIN  99 

in  the  totality  of  a  feeling  or  a  passion,  he  is  all  in  the  present, 
in  that  swift  instant  which  overwhelmed  him,  compelling  him 
to  pour  forth  in  charming  tones.  Each  of  Foeth's  poems  has 
reference  to  only  one  point  of  existence,  one  throb  of  the 
heart;  it  is  therefore  indivisible,  it  cannot  be  dissolved  in  its 
component  parts;  it  is  a  harmony  in  which  all  strings  respond 
to  the  sound  of  one  string  slightly  touched  in  passing.  It  is 
here,  therefore,  that  the  beauty,  naturalness,  sincerity,  and 
sweetness  of  poetry  grow  to  perfection.  ...  He  does  not 
choose  subjects;  he  does  not  draw  complicated  pictures  and 
does  not  unroll  a  sequence  of  thoughts,  but  he  dwells  on  one 
figure,  on  one  side  of  a  feeling.  Looked  at  from  this  stand- 
point, he  does  not  appear  monotonous;  on  the  contrary,  we 
marvel  at  the  breadth  of  his  stroke,  the  variety  and  number 
of  his  subjects.  Like  the  magician  who  turns  into  gold  what- 
ever he  touches,  so  our  poet  transforms  into  poetry  all  pos- 
sible elements  of  our  life." 

N.  N.  Strakhov. 

"Infatuated,  intoxicated,  averse  to  definite  words,  Foeth 
does  not  speak,  he  is  delirious;  he  wants  no  consciousness,  he 
is  afraid  of  its  crude  exactness;  he  prefers  to  remain  on  the 
elusive  line  between  the  light  of  the  soul  and  its  darkness. 
He  feels  well  in  the  unconscious,  in  the  unmotivated,  he 
seeks  no  explanation  .  .  .  therefore  a  delicate  veil  is  wrapt 
over  his  poems  and  they  are  all  like  A  a  message  that  reached 
not  distinctly';  they  appear  from  under  the  covering  mist 
of  the  past  as  if  animated  by  Platonic  remembrance.  .  .  . 
The  poet  tells  us  his  wonderful  dream  of  which  only  the  most 
delicate  fragments  have  survived, — those  silvery,  silver-gray, 
lucid  poems  or  those  separate  words  which  caress  our  souls 
with  the  touch  of  some  tender  silken  fabric.  .   .   . 

"  The  angels  hovering  around  the  Sistine  Madonna  melt 
together  into  a  cloud;  so  all  that  is  tender  and  ephemeral  in 
the  world  melts  in  his  poems  into  something  aerial,  indissolu- 
ble. This  indivisible  unity  of  unutterable  experiences,  this 
world  which  has  become  so  refined  as  to  enter  in  its  totality 
into  one  single  human  heart, — this  is  what  the  poet  speaks 
to  us  about  in  the  mode  of  something  immaterialized, — as  if 


ioo      GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

he  were  kissing  his  words  and  they  were  opening  to  him  their 
lips, — or  are  those  not  words  but  petals  of  flowers?  Or  are 
those  not  flowers  but  stars?  Or  are  those  not  stars  but 
maidens'  eyes?    Whatever  it  may  be,  it  surely  is  happiness." 

J.   ElCHENWALD. 

"This  poet-philosopher  is  so  much  a  poet  of  philosophers 
that  his  works  will  inevitably  become  a  favorite  book  of  every 
thinker,  every  scientist,  every  man  of  a  philosophical  turn 
of  mind  if  he  is  not  entirely  deprived  of  artistic  sense. 

"  Of  all  the  lyrical  poets  that  have  hitherto  lived,  none 
has  succeeded  to  such  a  degree  in  acquiring  a  purely  philo- 
sophical spirit,  at  the  same  time  remaining  a  poet  and  only  a 
poet.  This  great  artist  is  like  a  golden  link  between  beauty 
and  truth,  he  is  a  golden  bridge  between  philosophy  and 
poetry.  Penetration  into  the  substance  of  things  is  in  his 
opinion  the  limit  of  creative  intensity: 

c  Wings  has  my  spirit  acquired  in  your  palaces, 
Truth  does  it  bring  from  the  heights  of  creation/ 

he  says  to  the  poets.  This  insight,  however,  remains  for  him 
only  the  result  of  poetic  soaring:  the  truth  is  revealed  to  him 
on  the  summits  of  esthetic  ecstasy  which  he  seeks  or  leaves  for 
purposes  other  than  truth.  He  approaches  it  in  his  own  way 
inaccessible  to  the  exact  thinker  yet  in  close  relation  to  him. 
The  poet  and  the  thinker  agree  in  results  differing  only  in  the 
ways  of  approach." 

B.  V.  Nikolsky. 

[Foeth  is  known  as  the  translator  of  numerous  classical  poets 
such  as  Horatius,  Catullus,  Tibullus,  Ovid,  Vergil,  etc.  He 
translated  Goethe's  Faust  and  Hermann  und  Dorothea,  also 
Schopenhauer's  Die  Welt  als  Wille  und  Vorstellung,  etc.] 


F.  M.  DOSTOYEVSKY  (1821-1881) 

Picture  a  country,  vast,  powerful,  endowed  with  limit- 
less natural  riches,  yet  lacking  ease  and  comfort;  a  coun- 
try torn  by  the  most  picturesque  and  painful  contrasts, 
yet  passionately  dreaming  of  harmony  and  beauty;  a 
country  struggling  against  the  leaden  floods  of  gloom 
that  threaten  to  choke  every  living  thing,  yet  seeing 
visions  of  pure  white  light  and  rapturous  joy.  Picture  a 
life  where  the  dominant  factor  is  cruelty:  cruelty  of  an 
autocratic  government  using  the  whip  and  the  lash  and 
the  fist  and  the  bayonet  and  the  saber  and  the  dungeon 
to  crush  its  peaceful  innocent  citizens;  cruelty  of  land- 
lords using  the  rod  as  a  means  of  ruling  their  serfs,  and 
of  factory  employers  "  crushing  the  skulls "  of  their 
workers;  cruelty  of  rural  communities  inflicting  corporal 
punishment  on  their  respectable  members,  and  of  military 
units  where  the  practice  of  physical  tortures  developed 
into  an  art  and  the  most  refined  methods  of  painful 
humiliation  were  devised;  cruelty  of  parents,  of  schools, 
of  husbands,  of  farm  managers,  of  judges,  of  priests; 
cruelty  of  poverty,  of  bad  roads,  of  primitive  nature,  of 
disorganization,  of  dirt,  mud,  filth.  Picture  a  people  of  a 
hundred  millions  inflicted  with  a  profound  religious  spirit 
and  craving  for  their  God;  thousands  of  convents  scat- 
tered over  the  plains  of  two  continents  where,  among  lazy 
and  good-for-nothing  impostors,  there  live  individual 
monks  of  the  purest  and  most  sublime  moral  and  spirit- 
ual attainments,  ascending  to  the  highest  sun-lit  peaks  of 
faith  and  devotion  and  eternal  peace;  hosts  of  plain 

101 


io2      OROWTH  OF  A/NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

folks,  men,  women  and  children,  strong  and  infirm,  rich 
and  poor,  leaving  their  homes  every  spring  for  a  long 
pilgrimage  by  foot  to  the  holy  places,  walking  from 
village  to  village  in  colorful  clusters,  sleeping  nights  in 
the  open  air  and  wandering  for  months  and  months 
through  rain  and  hail  and  dust  and  mud  in  the  hope 
of  falling  prostrate  before  the  holy  ikon  and  of  unload- 
ing the  burden  of  sin  that  weighs  so  heavily  on  their  con- 
sciences. Picture  a  class  of  intellectual,  well-educated 
people  who  have  absorbed  all  the  cultural  and  spiritual 
ideas  of  their  time  and  who  are  woefully  aware  of  the 
discrepancies  between  their  ideal  conception  and  the 
brutal  reality  that  stares  mockingly  into  their  faces  from 
near  and  far.  Picture  one  of  those  intellectuals  who  has 
received  a  very  careful  and  thorough  European  educa- 
tion; a  thinker  who  is  irresistibly  drawn  to  philosophical, 
primarily  metaphysical  reasoning,  living  the  problems  of 
conscience,  of  good  and  evil,  of  God  and  man,  of  time  and 
eternity  and  things  "  beyond  "  in  a  more  acute  and  suf- 
fering way  than  do  ordinary  mortals  live  the  problems  of 
their  personal  happiness;  an  artist  with  the  most  piercing 
eye,  with  the  deepest  understanding  of  human  psychology 
and  with  an  ability  to  fathom  the  abysses  of  the  human 
mind  beyond  the  surface  of  common  sense;  a  responsive 
soul  who  can  hear  the  cry  of  a  child  in  the  night  when  it 
is  cruelly  beaten  by  an  ignorant  mother,  the  sigh  of  agony 
of  a  man  whose  daughter  is  selling  her  body  to  earn  a 
meager  living  for  him  and  his  family,  the  chatter  of  the 
teeth  of  the  insane  when  he  is  tormented  by  his  infernal 
visions,  and  who  drinks  the  cup  of  suffering  of  humanity 
so  deeply  that  the  entire  world  appears  to  him  in  a  white 
heat  of  pain;  a  constructive  genius  who  has  the  power  to 
put  all  his  visions,  queries,  doubts,  anguish,  rebellions, 


F.  M.  DOSTOYEVSKY  103 

analyses,  curses,  blessings  into  broad,  gripping,  scourging 
pictures  saturated  with  elements  of  reality,  of  human  life, 
human  nature.  Let  this  genius  be  sentenced  to  death  for 
no  fault  of  his,  let  him  be  put  on  the  scaffold  and  made 
to  listen  to  his  death  sentence  only  to  be  later  "par- 
doned "  to  serve  a  number  of  years  in  chains  in  the  mines 
of  Siberia  together  with  highwaymen  and  murderers;  let 
him,  besides,  develop  epilepsy  and  be  ever  tormented  by 
the  expectation  of  an  attack  and  by  all  the  terror  that 
accompanies  the  fits  of  his  disease.  Let  this  man  loose 
upon  a  country  pictured  above,  let  him  create  great  monu- 
mental works  giving  expression  to  his  own  soul  as  influ- 
enced by  the  surrounding  world, — and  you  will,  perhaps, 
have  an  idea  of  Fyodor  Dostoyevsky. 

People  outside  of  Russia  do  not  like  to  read  Dostoyev- 
sky. "  He  is  too  morbid,"  they  say,  "  he  may  be  very 
talented,  but  he  is  too  dark  and  gruesome."  True  it  is 
that  Dostoyevsky  is  no  amusing  reading.  Moreover, 
some  of  his  scenes  may  appear  incredible  to  those  who 
judge  Russia  by  the  standards  of  the  comfortable  western 
civilization.  Dostoyevsky  does  not  try  to  make  his  writ- 
ings palatable.  He  heaps  one  shocking  picture  on  the 
other,  he  tops  one  excruciating  scene  by  another  as  if 
some  formidable  God  were  piling  black  sharp-edged 
boulders  to  form  a  mountain  which  would  penetrate  the 
sky.  He  is  relentless.  He  knows  no  pity.  He  makes  the 
reader  gasp  for  breath  and  feel  as  if  the  entire  world  were 
turning  insane.  Yet  the  man  when  has  gone  through  the^ 
purgatory  of  Dostoyevsky^  novels  emerges  with  a  greater 
soul,  with  a  wiser  mind,  with  a  wealth  of  unmatched  ex-  1 
periences  that  give  new  meaning  to  the  world.  It  is  for  J 
this  reason  that  Dostoyevsky  has  grown  to  be  ever  more 
valued  and  read  and  commented  upon  by  thinking  Rus- 


104      GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

sians.    Now  Dostoyevsky  looms  up  on  the  spiritual  ho- 
rizon of  Russia  larger  than,  perhaps,  any  of  the  great. 

"  One  finds  in  Dostoyevsky  everywhere  the  human  person- 
ality extended  to  the  last  limits,-  growing,  developing  from 
the  very  dark,  elemental,  animal-like  roots  to  the  uppermost 
illuminated  heights  of  spirituality;  everywhere  one  finds  the 
struggle  of  a  heroic  will:  against  the  elemental  power  of  moral 
duty  and  conscience;  against  the  elemental  power  of  the  people, 
the  state,  the  political  influences;  finally,  against  the  elemental 
power  of  metaphysical  and  religious  mysteries.  Passing 
through  the  crucible  of  this  struggle,  through  the  fire  of  red- 
hot  passions  and  still  more  red-hot  consciousness,  the  kernel 
of  the  human  personality  remains  undestroyed,  it  reveals  it- 
self,— and  all  Dostoyevsky's  heroes  are  contrasted  with  the  ele- 
mental powers  that  absorb  them. 

"His  main  works  are  in  reality  neither  novels,  nor  epics; 
they  are  tragedies.  He  has  no  rivals  in  the  art  of  gradually 
intensifying,  accumulating,  deepening  and  fearfully  concentrat- 
ing the  tragic  action.  There  comes  a  moment  for  all  Dosto- 
yevsky's  heroes  when  they  cease  '  feeling  their  own  body/ 
These  creatures  are  by  no  means  bodiless  or  bloodless,  they 
are  not  ephemeral.  Yet  the  highest  elation,  the  utmost  tension 
of  their  spiritual  life,  the  most  heated  passions  not  of  heart  and 
emotions,  but  of  mind,  intellect,  conscience,  give  them  this  free- 
dom from  their  bodies;  they  produce,  as  it  were,  the  super- 
natural lightness,  the  spirituality  of  the  flesh.  Because  of 
their  high  spirituality,  all  Dostoyevsky's  heroes  live  an  incred- 
ibly accelerated  life;  they  do  not  walk  like  ordinary  mortals, 
they  are  flying;  and  in  their  very  destruction  they  experience 
the  rapture  of  this  terrible  flight,  since  it  carries  them  into  the 
abyss. 

"Dostoyevsky's  heroes  are,  first  of  all,  clever  people. 
Through  them  we  can  see  how  even  abstract  thoughts  can  be 
passionate,  how  metaphysical  premises  and  conclusions  can  be 
rooted  not  only  in  our  intellect,  but  also  in  our  hearts,  emo- 
tions, will.  Their  crimes  are  irresistible  conclusions  from 
dialectics.  They  feel  deeply  because  they  think  deeply;  they 
suffer   enormously  because   they   cogitate   enormously;    they 


F.  M.  DOSTOYEVSKY  105 

dare  to  will  because  they  dare  to  think.  The  most  abstract 
thought  is  at  the  same  time  the  most  passionate:  this  is  the 
thought  of  God.  All  Dostoyevsky's  heroes  are  '  tormented  by 
God.' 

"  To  make  the  hidden  sides,  the  powers  latent  in  the  depths 
of  human  souls  reveal  themselves,  Dostoyevsky  needs  a  cer- 
tain degree  of  pressure  of  moral  atmospheres  which  under 
conditions  of  present  '  real '  life  never,  or  almost  never,  are 
to  be  found: — he  needs  either  the  rarefied,  icy  air  of  abstract 
dialectics,  or  the  fire  of  elemental,  animal-like  passion.  These 
experiments  sometimes  yield  totally  novel  states  of  the  human 
soul,  which  seem  to  be  impossible,  unnatural,  like  the  liquid 
state  of  the  air.  Dostoyevsky's  so-called  psychology  reminds 
one  of  a  vast  laboratory  equipped  with  the  finest,  most  exact 
instruments  and  mechanisms  to  measure,  investigate,  analyze 
human  souls." 

D.  S.  Merezhkovsky. 

"  A  romanticist  by  emotion  and  purpose,  Dostoyevsky, 
nevertheless,  was  a  realist  in  the  means  of  execution.  His 
penetration  into  the  depths  of  human  consciousness  we  can- 
not fail  to  recognize  as  a  truthful  and  realistic  reproduction 
of  the  psychic  processes  of  his  heroes.  Even  in  this  reproduc- 
tion, however,  he  remains  a  subjective  romantic  author  inas- 
much as  he  does  not  copy  his  characters  from  the  observa- 
tions of  others,  but  objectivizes  in  them  his  own  mental  strug- 
gles and  his  own  experiences  in  their  extraordinary  scope  and 
intensity.  He  thus  represents  a  type  of  artistic  work  which 
consists  in  judgment  of  an  author  over  himself.  To  this  type 
belonged  also  Gogol's  work." 

Ch.  Vyetrinsky. 

1.     Crime  and  Punishment.    Novel.     (1866.) 

Through  the  processes  of  pure  reasoning,  a  man  comes 
to  the  murder  of  a  fellow  human  being.  The  man  is  hon- 
est. He  is  an  idealist.  He  is  a  thinker.  He  despises 
conventional  morals.  He  challenges  society  by  challeng- 
ing his  own  deeply  rooted  moral  conceptions.    There  are, 


106      GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

he  says,  human  lives  that  are  worth  nothing,  less  than 
nothing.  They  are  injurious  to  society.  They  are  para- 
sites pure  and  simple.  Why  should  I  not  be  permitted 
to  go  and  kill  one  of  these  persons,  even  if  it  is  an  old 
helpless  decrepit  woman,  and  take  away  her  money 
which  I  can  use  for  some  progressive  purpose? 

The  man  dares.  He  kills  the  woman.  What  will  be- 
come of  him?  What  mental  processes  will  he  go  through? 
This  is  the  main  problem  Dostoyevsky  sets  out  to  solve 
in  this  novel.  "  People  call  me  a  psychologist,"  Dosto- 
yevsky once  wrote  about  himself.  "  This  is  not  true.  I 
am  only  a  realist  of  a  higher  order;  that  is  to  say,  I  am 
depicting  all  the  depths  of  human  soul."  Raskolnikov, 
the  hero  of  Crime  and  Punishment,  offers  a  vast  oppor- 
tunity for  this  realism  of  a  higher  order.  Sonja  Marmela- 
dov,  the  prostitute  who  is  destined  to  play  the  most  im- 
portant part  in  Raskolnikov's  regeneration,  offers  to  this 
realism  another  rich  field  for  experimenting.  Thrown 
against  the  background  of  the  "  mad  "  city  of  Petersburg, 
a  nightmare  of  stone  and  dust  in  the  hot  summer  months, 
the  story  becomes  one  of  the  very  significant  events  in 
the  lives  of  those  who  have  read  it. 

"  Raskolnikov  belongs  to  the  men  whose  thinking  is  very  in- 
tense. He  led  a  solitary,  secluded  life,  all  absorbed  in  thought 
and  contemplation,  in  logical  combinations,  examining  with 
his  intellect  the  riddles  of  life.  He  tasted  of  the  poison  of  un- 
fulfilled desires  which  turned  inward,  he  experienced  the  fever 
of  indecision.  But  he  wishes  not  only  to  think,  he  wishes  to 
act." 

Th.  D.  Batyushkov. 

2.    The  Idiot.    Novel.    (1868.) 

The  man  thus  labeled  is  not  an  idiot  at  all.  He  is 
wiser  than  many  a  wise  man.    He  has  been  ill  up  to  a 


F.  M.  DOSTOYEVSKY  107 

mature  age,  suffering  from  a  kind  of  mental  disease.  Now 
he  is  well.  He  returns  to  society,  rich  and  independent. 
But  he  returns  with  a  soul  so  sensitive  that  it  seems  nude. 
His  impressions  have  a  freshness  and  a  spontaneity  un- 
known to  civilized  men.  His  ideas  of  right  and  wrong, 
proper  and  improper,  are  dictated  by  a  moral  sense  that 
is  as  responsive  and  tremulous  as  would  be  a  living  being 
stripped  of  its  skin.  He  is  a  child,  he  is  a  sage,  he  is  a 
saint.  How  would  he  react  if  he  were  put  in  a  company 
not  of  dull  commonplace  people,  but  of  men  and  women 
of  the  hottest  passions  and  the  darkest  gropings?  Dos- 
toyevsky  introduces  a  gallery  of  such  men  and  women. 
The  savage  Rogozhin  with  his  primitive  impulses;  the 
cultured  unhappy  Nastasya  Philippovna  whose  soul  has 
been  forever  downtrodden  and  who  revenges  herself  by 
disregarding  human  laws,  and  a  number  of  others.  The 
novel  is  a  string  of  tragic  scenes  unsurpassed  in  dramatic 
power.    It  leads  up  to  a  climax  that  is  haunting. 

"  A  tragic  struggle  between  demoniacal  powers  of  beauty  on 
one  hand  and  distant  truths,  quiet  and  salutary,  shining  from 
far  off,  on  the  other,  is  represented  in  The  Idiot.  The  novel 
has  no  construction  whatever.  The  author  cared  little  about 
what  is  commonly  called  plausibility  in  descriptions  of  human 
life.  When  fundamental  powers  are  in  conflict,  such  as  God 
and  atheism,  the  universal  and  the  individual,  transcendental 
truth  and  sensual  beauty,  it  is  inevitable  that  a  great  con- 
fusion, a  storm,  a  hurricane  should  follow.  Caught  by  this 
hurricane,  the  persons  of  the  novel  live  in  a  constant  rush. 
They  are  all  running  up-hill  or  down-hill,  they  fall  and  rise 
again,  and  even  when  they  reach  heights  above  the  clouds, 
they  still  shake  in  mad  convulsions.  This  is  a  true  repro- 
duction of  the  historic  process,  yet  it  is  done  in  the  feverish 
tempo  of  a  pathetic  and  disease-stricken  genius." 

A.  L.  Volynsky. 


108      GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

"  The  Idiot  is  fundamentally  a  love  story.  The  entire  action 
is  centered  around  a  love  affair,  and  the  catastrophe  is  brought 
about  by  unsatisfied  love.  In  Dostoyevsky's  work,  however, 
love  almost  entirely  loses  its  specific  character  of  an  instinc- 
tive, sentimental  or  sensual  attraction,  of  a  desire  of  two  hu- 
man beings  to  merge  in  one  undivided  life.  The  eternal  theme 
of  love  is  here  afforded  not  an  individual,  but  a  broad  uni- 
versal treatment.  In  a  sort  of  hurricane,  phantoms  pass  be- 
fore our  eyes:  Rogozhin  obsessed  by  a  mad  passion,  the  tragic 
figure  of  Nastasya  Philippovna,  the  proud  Aglaya,  and  a  whole 
series  of  other  figures,  strange  personalities,  crippled  by  disease 
or  circumstances."  m 

Th.  D.  Batyushkov. 

3.    The  Brothers  Karamazov.    Novel.     (1 879-1 880.) 

The  ripest  and  most  monumental  of  Dostoyevsky's 
works.  Here  all  the  trends  and  currents  of  his  creative 
searchings  are  concentrated  and  deepened.  The  volumi- 
nous novel  represents  a  momentous  tragedy  constructed 
with  unusual  technical  skill.  The  n.umerous  figures  are 
located  around  the  main  event  so  as  to  make  a  complete 
whole.  The  psychological  vivisection,  the  cruel  dipping 
into  the  most  obscure  corners  of  human  souls,  the  un- 
canny joy  at  pursuing  the  victim  of  the  artist's  acrid 
stare,  coupled  with  a  human  sympathy  and  compassion 
for  suffering  human  beings  as  profound  and  tender  and 
all-embracing  as  only  suffering  can  produce,  are  more 
evident  in  this  work  than,  perhaps,  in  all  the  works  of 
Dostoyevsky. 

"  Somewhere,  in  an  unknown  and  insignificant  provincial 
town,  a  grave  family  drama  took  place  culminating  in  a  sen- 
sational scandalous  trial.  The  acting  figures  in  the  novel  are 
almost,  personified  complexes  of  various  qualities  and  attri- 
butes of  the  human  soul:  the  sensual  element  is  primarily  in- 
carnated in  Fyodor  Pavlovitch  Karamazov;  as  to  his  sons, 


F.  M.  DOSTOYEVSKY  109 

Ivan  represents  intellect,  pride,  and  'greediness  for  life/ 
Domitri,  unbridled  passions  and  goodness  of  heart,  Alyosha, 
tenderness  and  sympathy,  while  the  illegitimate  son  Smerdya- 
kov  is  an  example  of  servility  and  bitterness.  As  a  contrast  to 
all  those  sinister,  nightmare-like,  destructive  and  mortifying 
experiences  in  a  whirlwind  of  passion  and  strife  which,  besides 
the  main  figures,  embraces  a  number  of  secondary  personages, 
women,  adolescents,  and  almost  children,  the  solemn  magnifi- 
cent figure  of  Saint  Zosima  looms  up, — the  figure  of  a  man 
once  in  the  turmoil  of  worldly  strife,  now  calm  and  composed 
in  possession  of  the  higher  truth,  living  outside  the  world, 
though  never  losing  interest  in  the  fate  of  his  fellow  human 
beings.', 

Th.  D.  Batyushkov. 

"  The  most  harrowing  of  all  philosophico-religious  problems 
is  here  treated:  how  can  we  reconcile  the  faith  in  an  all-power- 
ful and  all-benevolent  God  with  the  existence  of  evil,  cruelties, 
bestiality  in  the  world,  particularly  with  the  greatest  injustice 
— children's  torture?  Ivan  is  revolting  against  the  idea  of  uni- 
versal harmony  achieved  at  the  price  of  endless  suffering, 
primarily  of  innocent  victims.  He  rejects  the  '  truth '  thus 
attained,  he  declares  beforehand  that  the  truth  is  not  worth 
such  a  price.  It  is  not  a  theoretical,  theologico-philosophical 
discussion  as  to  the  proofs  of  God's  existence,  it  is  a  burning 
question  of  life  and  moral  consciousness.  The  question  is  put 
so  sharply  and  in  such  a  daring  manner  that  no  superficial 
answer  is  possible." 

D.  N.  OVSYANIKO-KULIKOVSKY. 

[Other  works  of  Dostoyevsky  indispensable  to  the  student  of 
his  talent:  Memories  from  the  Dead  House;  Notes  from  the 
Underground;  Poor  People;  Netotchka  Nezvanova;  The  Ob- 
sessed.] 


VLADIMIR  SOLOVYOV  (1853-1900) 

Philosopher,  publicist,  poet,  and  critic.  The  student  of 
Russian  literature  cannot  pass  by  the  figure  of  Vladimir 
Solovyov  though  his  main  work  lies  outside  the  realm 
of  literature  proper.  Solovyov  occupies  an  honorable 
place  among  the  Russian  idealistic  philosophers.  His 
most  important  philosophic  treatises  are  The  Spiritual 
Foundation  of  Life,  The  Justification  of  the  Good,  and 
Russia  and  the  Universal  Church.  Here  Solovyov  ap- 
pears as  an  adherent  of  the  Neo-Platonic  school  and  as  a 
thinker  whose  main  concern  is  religion.  His  aim  was, 
to  use  his  own  words,  "  to  justify  the  faith  of  our  fathers 
by  raising  it  to  a  new  level  of  intelligent  consciousness; 
to  show  how  this  ancient  faith,  freed  from  the  fetters  of 
local  separatism  and  national  egotism,  coincides  with 
the  eternal  universal  truth." 

In  the  field  of  social  problems,  Solovyov's  famous  work 
is  The  National  Problem  in  Russia,  in  which  he  stands 
against  narrow  nationalism  and  false  patriotism.  His 
ideal  in  social  questions  is  "love,  truth,  and  universal 
solidarity."  Patriotism  he  understands  "  not  as  hatred  to 
members  of  other  races  or  adherents  of  other  religions, 
but  as  active  love  for  the  entire  suffering  people."  In 
his  political  works  Solovyov  embraces  a  wide  range  of 
national  and  international  problems;  through  these  works 
he  was  known  to  the  public  more  than  through  his  purely 
philosophic  researches. 

Fundamentally,  however,  Solovyov  was  a  poet,  and  a 
poetic  feeling  colored  all  his  philosophic  thinking  and 
writing.    E.  Radlov,  author  of  many  essays  on  Solovyov, 

110 


VLADIMIR  SOLOVYOV  in 

says:  "  The  stamp  of  poetry,  of  something  far  away 
which  has  no  connection  whatever  with  the  interests  of 
our  time,  is  seen  in  Solovyov's  philosophy  and  expresses 
the  mystical  element  which  is  a  salient  feature  of  the 
Russian  soul."  Solovyov  was  a  poet  and  a  mystic,  a 
mystic  poet,  and  in  a  number  of  talented  poems  he  gave 
utterance  to  his  moods.  In  several  splendid  essays  he 
gave  appreciations  of  other  Russian  poets  and  writers 
who,  in  his  opinion,  approached  most  closely  the  ideal  of 
real  art.  Altogether,  Solovyov  is  a  many-sided,  highly 
talented  spiritual  personality;  he  stands  out  as  a  bright 
figure  on  the  gloomy  horizon  of  Russian  intellectual  life. 
He  deserves  respect  even  on  the  part  of  those  who  do  not 
agree  with  his  philosophico-theological  conceptions. 

"  What  is  most  unusual  in  Solovyov  and  most  fundamental, 
is  his  world-wide  interest,  his  universalism.  Sectarianism  or 
apostasy  was  foreign  to  him.  Russian  life  and  thought  of  the 
second  half  of  the  nineteenth  century  shows  no  other  instance 
of  a  universal  personality  concerned  with  Russia,  humanity, 
the  world's  soul,  the  Church,  God,  and  not  with  circles  or 
factions.  Solovyov  is  neither  a  Slavophil  nor  a  Westerner, 
neither  Greek-Catholic  nor  Roman-Catholic,  because  he  dwelt 
all  his  life  in  the  Church  of  the  Universe.  He  dwelt  all  his 
life  in  unity  with  the  soul  of  the  world  which,  as  a  faithful 
knight,  he  wished  to  free  from  captivity.  Dostoyevsky's  as- 
sertion that  the  Russian  is  primarily  a  universal  man,  is  most 
applicable  to  Solovyov.  This  Russian  longing  for  a  universal 
humanity  led  him  to  raise  the  question  of  '  Orient  and  Oc- 
cident.' The  problem  of  Orient  and  Occident,  of  uniting  both 
worlds  in  a  Christian  universal  humanity,  was  Solovyov's  main 
problem  which  pursued  him  all  his  life." 

Nikolas  Berdyayev. 

i.   Lyrical  Poems.    (1875-1900.) 

Solovyov's  poems  are  poems  of  thought  rather  than 
intuition.    They  supplement  his  philosophic  and  religious 


ii2      GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

gropings.  Their  main  theme  may  be  expressed  in  the 
following  passage  from  his  famous  poem  Three  Meet- 
ings: "  Disbelieving  in  the  deceptive  world,  I  felt  the  im- 
perishable mantle  of  purple,  and  recognized  the  radiance 
of  God  under  the  rough  crust  of  matter." 1  In  their  style 
and  language  they  represent  hardly  any  new  features,  as 
compared  with  the  works  of  the  great  masters.  Their 
value  is  in  their  spirituality  and  mystic  moods. 

"  Solovyov  possessed  a  gift  of  artistic  expression  which  ob- 
literated the  line  of  demarcation  between  poetry  and  prose; 
this  gift  was  combined  in  him  with  an  actual  song-making 
ability.  His  poems  are  valuable  not  only  as  material  for 
the  history  of  his  inner  life;  the  best  of  them  are  full  of  a 
peculiar  charm;  at  times  they  call  forth  from  the  depth  of  the 
soul  something  half-forgotten,  veiled  in  a  mist  of  unaccount- 
able sadness;  at  times  they  offer  flashlike  glimpses  into  the 
infinite  distances  of  the  future.  ...  Of  the  few  poems  on 
current  questions,  the  strongest  is  Ex  oriente  lux  with  its 
question  put  to  Russia:  '  What  Orient  wouldst  thou  prefer  to 
be,  that  of  Xerxes  or  of  Christ?  '  Solovyov  understood  the 
fundamental  qualities  of  the  Russian  soul." 

K.  Arsenyev. 

2.    Three  Speeches  on  Dostoyevsky.    (i 881-1883.) 
The  Poetry  of  Th.  I.  Tyutchev.    Essay.    (1895.) 
The  Poetry  of  Count  A.  K.  Tolstoi.    Essay.    (1895.) 
Lermontov.    Essay.    (1899.) 
Significance  of  Poetry  in  Pushkin's  Poems,    Essay. 

(1899.) 
Lermontov.    Essay.    (Published  in  1901.) 
Poetry.    Essay.    (Published  in  1901.) 
In  his  penetrating  and  beautiful  critical  essays,  Solo- 
vyov appears  a  man  of  refined  literary  taste,  of  real  love 
for  poetry  and  a  keen  understanding  of  a  poet's  task.    He 

1  Literal  translation. 


VLADIMIR  SOLOVYOV  113 

does  not  confine  himself  to  external  things,  he  goes  into 
the  very  essence  of  a  poet's  creative  individuality.  What 
he  demands  of  poetry  is  "  the  bloom  and  radiance  of 
spiritual  forces."  Poetry  incarnates  in  images  the  high 
meaning  of  life.  The  source  of  poetry  is  eternal  ideas. 
Poetry  is  no  play  of  fancy,  it  is  an  expression  of  the  unity 
and  animation  of  nature.  Poetry  should  tell  the  truth 
about  the  nature  of  the  universe.  Poetic  creations  that 
do  not  conform  with  this  ideal,  are  inferior  in  Solovyov's 
opinion.  Still,  he  says,  even  writers  who  are  not  aware 
of  serving  a  high  ideal,  are  nevertheless  endowed  with  a 
divine  spirit  and  serve  the  cause  of  truth.  For  Solovyov, 
poetry  is  a  service,  a  sacred  performance. 

[Other  important  essays:  Beauty  in  Nature;  The  Poetry  of 
Ya.  P.  Polonsky.] 


L.  N.  TOLSTOI  (1828-1910) 

"With  a  feeling  of  awe  you  approach  Tolstoi, — he  is  so 
tremendous  and  masterful;  with  a  feeling  of  timid  admiration 
you  stand  at  the  foot  of  this  human  mountain.  The  Cyclopean 
structure  of  his  spirit  overpowers  the  student. 

"  It  is  the  naturalness,  the  almost  primeval  character  and 
elemental  power  of  his  works  that  strike  one  most.  He  is  the 
eternal  pupil  of  life,  forever  learning  something  new;  his  soul 
is  full  to  the  brim,  it  is  a  vessel  of  beauty,  artistically  carved, 
precious  in  its  simplicity.  He  can  identify  himself  with  every 
soul;  he  remembers  and  understands  everything;  he  includes 
all  objects,  big  and  small,  in  the  vast  sphere  of  his  observa- 
tions; he  transforms  himself  into  everybody  and  everything, 
and  all  sensations,  however  fleeting,  experienced  by  him  or  by 
others,  he  puts  into  an  artistic  form  that  stays  forever.  .  .  . 
The  all-embracing  scope  of  his  creative  power  gives  him  access 
to  human  beings,  to  animals,  and  even  to  the  soul  of  a  dying 
tree;  you  cannot  resist  the  authenticity  with  which  he  pictures 
all  the  experiences  of  all  the  living  creatures  in  God^s  world. 
Being  no  litterateur,  he  has  no  literary  specialty.  /  He  ap^ 
proaches  every  subject  with  equal  ease,  and  the  diameter  01 
his  creative  area  is  astounding.  From  Napoleon  to  Kholstomer 
(the  Horse) — all  this  tremendous  psychological  distance  he 
passes  with  equal  strength,  never  fatigued,  never  strained, 
never  artificial.  The  dreams  of  a  child  falling  asleep,  and  the 
last  visions  of  a  dying  person,  the  debut  of  a  little  girl  who  is  in 
love  for  the  first  time,  and  the  nights  of  the  old  Prince  turn- 
ing on  the  hard  bed  of  senility, — all  this  Tolstoi  understood 
and  lived  through  and  incorporated  into  pieces  of  art,  and  bet- 
ter than  any  artist  in  the  world  has  he  shown  that  nothing  is 
lost  in  the  soul;  he  showed  how  endlessly  rich  life  is,  how 
every  drop  of  dew  glistens  and  sparkles  with  a  fullness  of  color. 

"  And  yet,  slowly  completing  his  inspiring  progress  through 
the  world,  fondly  absorbing  every  detail  of  existence,  Tol- 

"4 


L.  N.  TOLSTOI 


"5 


stoi  does  not  forget  its  general  meaning;  the  concrete  manifes- 
tations of  life  never  screen  for  him  life  as  a  whole;  he  sees  the 
latter  in  every  trifle.  Generous,  knowing  no  fear  of  exhaus- 
tion, never  menaced  by  the  ghost  of  poverty,  he  gives  much 
time  and  attention  to  details,  he  cherishes  them,  he  transforms 
them  into  gems  of  creation,  he  is  in  no  hurry  to  let  them  pass 
by.  He  can  be  exuberant.  He  likes  luxury.  He  devotes  en- 
tire pages — pages  of  unrivaled  beauty — to  hunting,  races, 
birthday-dinners,  weddings. 

"  From  amid  all  this,  from  amid  the  trivial,  ordinary,  the 
trifling,,  rises  the  sublime,  the  beautiful,  the  great,  stirring  the 
soul  with  the  purest  emotions.  Without  an  obvious  purpose, 
without  aiming  at  effects,  he  attains  the  most  sublime  results; 
amid  every-day  life,  out  of  the  material  of  every-day  occur- 
rences, he  gives  us  a  holiday  of  spirit;  out  of  prose  he  creates 
fragrant  poetry,  and  you  are  thankful  to  him,  and  you  send 
him  your  blessings." 

J.  ElCHENWALD. 

1,    Anna  Karenina.    Novel,     (i 875-1 877.) 

The  Song  of  Songs  of  love  stories.  Tolstoi  personally 
disapproves  of  Anna's  love  for  Vronsky.  Anna  is  a 
married  woman,  and,  according  to  Tolstoi's  moral  con- 
ception, she  should  not  have  left  her  husband  and  child 
for  the  sake  of  her  love.  Yet  Tolstoi  the  artist  is  in- 
finitely stronger  than  Tolstoi  the  moralist.  His  narrative 
of  emotional  developments  is  their  justification;  his 
sketches  of  Anna's,  her  husband's,  Vronsky's  and  the 
others'  characters,  make  events  appear  inevitable.  Tol- 
stoi tells  the  story  of  human  weaknesses  and  human  in- 
consequence with  so  much  fondness  that  it  seems  almost 
impossible  to  identify  the  author  of  Anna  Karenina  with 
the  old,  stern-looking,  implacable  man  we  know  so  well 
from  his  portraits.  Here,  as  elsewhere,  Tolstoi  the  artist 
is  utterly  humane;  his  own  ideas  do  not  cloud  his  vision; 
his  philosophic  conceptions  remain  in  the  background  so 


n6      GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

long  as  he  anatomizes  actual  life.  "  Tolstoi  was  more  of 
a  pagan  than  any  other  of  our  writers,"  said  a  famous 
Russian  critic.  His  greediness  for  life  in  its  concrete 
manifestations  made  him  dread  the  reverse, — death.  In 
Anna  Karenina  we  have  a  streak  of  this  dread  which 
pursued  Tolstoi  all  through  his  works. 

Still,  Anna  Karenina  is  infinitely  more  than  a  story 
of  love,  life,  and  death.  It  is  one  of  the  few  works  where 
the  thinking  elements  of  the  Russian  nobility  were  pic- 
tured with  broad,  frank  strokes,  it  is  a  colorful  panorama 
of  the  upper  class  of  Russia  in  the  second  half  of  the 
nineteenth  century.  Tolstoi  was  not  partial,  though  his 
sympathy  with  his  own  class  was  most  natural.  He 
pictures  both  the  virtues  and  weaknesses  of  high  society, 
and  the  student  of  Russian  social  conditions  will  have 
to  acquaint  himself  with  the  characters  of  the  novel 
just  as  well  as  with  historic  or  sociological  data.  It  is 
conceivable  that  he  will  see  more  through  Anna  Karenina 
than  through   piles   of  dry   material. 

The  novel,  however,  is  even  more  than  a  social  study. 
It  touches  the  broader  principles  of  existence.  It  is  satu- 
rated with  pure  thought.  It  gropes  for  a  solution  of  the 
meaning  of  life.  The  individual,  the  social,  and  the  uni- 
versal, are  subtly  combined  into  an  organic  whole. 

2.   War  and  Peace.    Novel.     (1865-1869.) 

"  The  author  faced  a  tremendous  task.  The  scene  of  action 
in  the  novel  is  the  whole  of  Europe,  from  the  Volga  to  Auster- 
litz;  equal  participants  in  the  action  are  great  armies  of  hun- 
dreds of  thousands,  and  a  little  girl  Natasha;  the  "great 
Napoleon,"  and  the  captive  soldier  Platon  Karatayev.  The 
battle  of  Borodino,  and  a  hunting  party;  the  movements  of 
huge  masses  of  armed  men,  and  the  hardly  perceptible  move- 
ments of  a  human  soul;  the  slaughter  of  innumerable  thou- 


L.  N.  TOLSTOI  n7 

sands,  and  the  fleeting  grief  of  an  individual;  the  meeting  be- 
tween Alexander  and  Napoleon,  and  the  meeting  between 
Pierre  and  Natasha, — all  those  historical  and  romantic  occur- 
rences are  combined  into  one  great  tangle  of  life.  To  be  able 
to  untangle  this  wealth  of  events,  to  draw  out  the  novel  into 
one  straight  line,  it  was  necessary  to  find  the  meaning  of  all, 
to  see  clearly  how  everything  happened,  what  were  the  mov- 
ing forces,  the  psychological  grounds,  why  things  shaped  them- 
selves one  way  and  not  another.  Once  faced  with  all  these 
questions,  Tolstoi  was  naturally  compelled  to  inquire  into  the 
philosophical  foundations  both  of  the  historical  and  psycholog- 
ical parts  of  the  novel.  War  and  Peace  thus  became  an  artistic, 
historic,  and  philosophic  epic  whose  elements  are  inseparably 
intertwined." 

R.  V.  Ivanov-Razumnik. 

"  The  conflict  between  two  peoples,  or,  strictly  speaking, 
between  Napoleon  and  Russia,  served  the  author  as  a  back- 
ground for  depicting  a  conflict  of  two  moral  powers,  a  strug- 
gle between  a  proud  personality  who  dares  to  mold  the  fate  of 
peoples,  and  a  spirit  of  humble  submission  to  the  aims  of  an 
unknown  higher  force.  Russia's  victory  over  Napoleon  is  the 
triumph  of  the  moral  idea  which,  in  Tolstoi's  opinion,  is  rep- 
resented by  the  Russian  people.  All  parts  of  the  picture  are 
placed  so  as  to  form  one  harmonious  entity,  and  it  often  seems 
"as  if  all  the  heroes  of  the  novel,  and  all  the  masses  that 
move  against  each  other,  were  only  manifestations  of  the  higher 
force  which  thus  reveals  itself." 

P.  KOGAN. 

War  and  Peace  is,  first  of  all,  an  artistic  biography  of 
several  men  and  women  at  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth 
century.  A  number  of  very  young  Russians,  almost  chil- 
dren, members  of  the  upper  class,  are  introduced  in  the 
first  chapters  of  the  novel,  and  the  author  proceeds  to 
follow  their  lives,  through  all  the  hazards  and  vicissitudes 
of  a  turbulent  historic  epoch,  up  to  the  time  of  their  full 
maturity  when  their  mental  powers  reached  a  climax. 


n8      GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

The  lives  of  those  people  often  cross  and  clash,  forming 
the  romantic  and  dramatic  part  of  the  novel.  War  and 
Peace  is,  thus,  one  of  the  rare  works  that  picture  the 
growth  and  development  of  an  entire  generation.  The 
subtlety  of  the  psychological  analysis  is  not  hampered 
by  the  great  number  of  persons  and  the  overwhelming 
amount  of  material  to  be  handled. 

A  second  element  is  the  national  life  of  Russia.  Hardly 
any  representative  of  any  class  in  Russia,  from  the  serfs 
and  the  village  reeve  to  the  Emperor  and  his  advisers,  is 
omitted  in  this  work.  In  fact,  it  was  the  clear  purpose  of 
Tolstoi  to  review  the  whole  of  Russia  in  her  moment  of 
hardest  trial.  The  picture  drawn  is  both  broad  and  vivid, 
true  to  life  and  shot  through  with  spirit. 

A  third  element  is  the  historical  event:  battles,  dip- 
lomatic relations,  military  drives,  the  invasion  of  Rus- 
sia by  Napoleon,  the  burning  of  Moscow,  the  retreat  and 
annihiliation  of  ithe  French  army.  The  latter  events  are 
represented  with  so  much  vigor  and  clarity  that  one  is 
almost  inclined  to  think  this  narrative  one  of  the  best 
sources  of  the  history  of  1812  in  Russia. 

3.    Resurrection.    Novel.     (1900.) 

In  this  novel  Tolstoi  aimed  at  picturing  the  moral  re- 
generation of  a  person  steeped  in  wrong.  Prince  Nekh- 
ludov,  the  rich  man,  the  bon  vivant,  realizes  the  evils  of 
his  life.  The  seduction  of  young  Katya,  the  peasant  girl, 
which  led  her  down-hill  to  vice  and  misery  and  finally 
to  a  trial  for  participation  in  murder,  is  Nekhludov's 
heaviest  sin.  Nekhludov  repents  and  is  ready  to  change 
his  life.  The  actual  center  of  the  novel  and  its  greatest 
artistic  achievement,  however,  is  not  the  figure  of  Nekh- 
ludov, but  prison-life  in  Russia,  Katya's  long  and  dreary 


L.  N.  TOLSTOI  119 

journey  to  Siberia  together  with  a  band  of  political  pris- 
oners, her  gradual  change  under  the  influence  of  more 
intelligent  and  human  companions,  her  timid  love  for 
one  of  the  revolutionaries,  and  the  first  rays  of  hope  that 
illuminate  this  sorely  tried  young  heart  still  capable  of 
the  best  human  emotions. 

[The  student  of  Tolstoi  will  read  every  literary  work  of  his 
with  equal  joy  and  profit.  Particular  attention  should  be 
called  to  Childhood,  Adolescence,  Youth,  which  is  a  kind  of 
artistic  autobiography;  to  The  Cossacks,  an  early  story  where 
many  of  Tolstoi's  later  philosophical  doubts  and  queries  are 
foreshadowed;  Sebastopol  Stories,  forming  almost  personal 
memoirs  in  which  the  author,  then  a  young  man,  set  down  his 
experiences  as  an  officer  in  the  Crimean  campaign;  the 
Kreuzer  Sonata,  in  which  sexual  love  and  pleasure  for  pleas- 
ure's sake  are  strongly  condemned ;  The  Death  of  Ivan  Hitch 
and  Man  and  Master,  both  dealing  with  the  problem  of  death ; 
a  number  of  short  stories  written  for  the  masses  in  plain 
language;  all  the  posthumous  works,  of  which  the  Living 
Corpse  is,  perhaps,  the  most  remarkable.  Brilliant  descrip- 
tions, conversations,  characteristics  are  scattered  in  Tolstoi's 
"prose"  discourses,  such  as  Confessions,  What  Is  Art? 
What,  Then,  Shall  We  Do?  and  others.  No  complete  under- 
standing of  Tolstoi's  artistic  manner  is  possible  without  re- 
course to  these  prose  works.] 


N.  S.  LYESKOV  (1831-1895) 

Duality  marks  the  character  and  the  literary  career  of 
this  great  and  original  Russian  writer.  He  has  a  vast 
knowledge  of  Russian  life  acquired  in  the  course  of  his 
extensive  travels  through  the  country,  and  he  often  pic- 
tures characters  not  as  they  are  but  as  he  sees  them  in 
his  prejudiced  mind.  He  undoubtedly  cherishes  the  ideas 
of  a  sound  progressive  order  on  the  basis  of  justice  and 
law,  and  he  often  plays  into  the  hands  of  reactionary 
forces  defying  law  and  justice.  He  is  a  staunch  defender 
of  the  truth  and  nothing  but  the  truth,  and  it  so  happens 
that  both  camps,  the  reactionary  and  the  progressive, 
refuse  to  accept  his  truth.  He  is  a  splendid  narrator 
with  a  rich  language,  with  a  carefully  constructed  and 
always  amusing  plot,  with  a  wealth  of  details  and  a 
strong  sense  of  humor,  yet  the  reader  does  not  grasp 
eagerly  at  his  books  and  does  not  become  a  friend  of 
the  author. 

The  reason  lies,  perhaps,  in  Lyeskov's  inherent  pessi- 
mism. When  he  appeared  in  the  literary  world  early  in 
the  sixties,  he  found  no  elements  in  Russian  society  which, 
in  his  opinion,  were  capable  of  building  up  a  new  life. 
He  distrusted  the  radical  intelligentzia  ("  nihilists  "  they 
were  called  in  those  times),  whom  he  conceived  as  a 
group  of  idle  talkers  with  no  practical  sense;  and  he 
had  little  faith  in  programs  of  social  reconstruction,  be- 
cause he  thought  the  people  not  ripe  for  progressive 
reforms.  Yet,  without  the  conscious  efforts  of  en- 
lightened masses,  he  said,  no  program  or  constitution 

120 


N.  S.  LYESKOV  121 

could  be  materialized.  Thus  he  fundamentally  differed 
from  the  current  liberal  opinion  of  his  time  according 
to  which  a  change  in  institutions  was  the  prime  necessity 
for  Russia.  Hence  his  lack  of  sympathy  for  either  the 
peasant  or  the  radical  movement.  Hence  his  lack  of  a 
clear  program  in  a  world  divided  according  to  programs 
and  social  conceptions.  Hence  that  lack  of  burning  en- 
thusiasm for  a  lofty,  though  distant,  aim  which  the  Rus- 
sian public  was  wont  to  find  in  its  leading  writers.  Hence, 
consequently,  a  certain  degree  of  sympathy  for  the  con- 
servative Russian  bureaucrat,  although  Lyeskov  was 
never  tired  of  pointing  out  his  shortcomings.  If  we  add 
a  restless  mind  easily  prejudiced  and  seeing  things  not  in 
their  proper  light,  we  may  understand  why  Lyeskov  was 
never  popular  in  Russia.  Only  after  the  lapse  of  decades, 
critics  like  Vengerov,  Lerner,  Sementkovsky  began  to  see 
what  was  actually  great  in  Lyeskov,  and  that  is  a  tre- 
mendous capacity  for  picturing  life  (such  parts  of  it  as  did 
not  arouse  his  prejudice),  an  individual  style  of  unusual 
vigor,  an  abundance  of  color  laid  on  almost  to  superfluity, 
and  an  ardent,  somewhat  voluptuous  love  for  life  in  all 
its  manifestations. 

Not  till  lately  have  the  critics  acquired  a  calm  attitude 
towards  Lyeskov,  as  may  be  seen  from  the  following  two 
quotations  divided  by  a  distance  of  some  fifteen  years. 

"  A  writer  endowed  with  talent  and  observing  power  yet 
without  a  God  in  his  soul.  A  cynic  by  constitution  and  a 
libertine  by  temperament,  he  is  a  hypocrite  screening  himself 
with  lofty  words  in  the  sanctity  of  which  he  does  not  believe. 
He  saw  much,  observed  much,  but  he  did  not  digest  what  he 
heard  and  saw,  and  therefore  he  gave  a  series  of  distorted  and 
elaborated  arabesques  and  nothing  truthful.  He  is  not  a  cari- 
caturist, and  he  is  not  a  satirist.  For  a  caricaturist  he  has 
not  enough  gaiety  and  wit,  for  a  satirist  he  has  not  enough 


122      GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

brains  and  civic  courage.  He  is  simply  a  joker  and  a  jester. 
The  twelve  volumes  of  his  works  are  a  heap  of  ruins.  In 
their  ugly  aggregation,  among  loads  of  debris,  among  piles  of 
useless  rubbish  you  find  wonderful  things,  but  nothing  com- 
plete, nothing  stamped  with  the  stamp  of  a  higher  gift,  nothing 
animated  by  a  higher  truth  or  warmed  by  goodness  and  faith." 

A.  I.  BOGDANOVITCH. 

"In  Lyeskov's  soul  lived  a  great  desire  for  truth,  but, 
twisted  by  an  overabundant  richness  of  a  live  and  sensitive 
nature  and  by  a  number  of  purely  external  events  which 
altered  the  course  destined  for  his  talent,  his  seeking  for  the 
truth  did  not  manifest  itself  in  a  clear,  pure  and  bright  form. 
As  far  as  purely  artistic  significance  and  genuine  individuality 
of  talent  is  concerned,  he  is  hardly  inferior  to  Tolstoi,  Tur- 
genev,  Saltykov,  Dostoyevsky,  the  foremost  writers  of  his 
time.  As  to  interior  consistency,  as  to  the  degree  of  satura- 
tion with  the  ideals  that  formed  the  life  of  those  writers,  Lye- 
skov  was  much  less  than  the  others.  .  .  .  Lyeskov  loved  life 
in  all  its  variety,  with  all  its  contradictions.  ...  He  was, 
however,  too  much  attracted  by  the  bright  colors  and  dark 
depths  of  life.  Overwhelmed  by  the  struggle  of  varying  and 
sometimes  conflicting  sympathies,  he  never  succeeded  in  '  plac- 
ing himself,'  to  use  his  own  expression.  And  so  he  remains 
*  unplaced '  in  the  history  of  Russian  thought  and  Russian 
literature.  The  one  thing  that  is  definite  and  tangible  about 
him  is  a  bright  and  refined  artistic  feeling  for  life,  and  a  pity 
for  man.  The  title  of  one  of  his  stories,  Vexation  oj  Mind, 
may  be  used  as  a  motto  for  all  his  creative  work.  All  Lyeskov 
is  in  these  words.  His  mind  was  vexed  by  a  longing  for  truth 
and  he  knew  how  to  stir  souls,  to  arouse  in  them  good  feel- 
ings and  to  lead  them  on  the  road  of  self-analysis  and  self- 
contemplation  at  the  end  of  which  all  problems  are  solved." 

N.  O.  Lerner. 

It  seems  that  Mr.  Lerner's  opinion  is  nearer  to  a  true 
appreciation  of  Lyeskov's  value. 

Lyeskov  wrote  a  large  number  of  novels  and  stories 
of  which  the  following  are  the  most  characteristic: 


N.  S.  LYESKOV  123 

1.  The  Bullsheep.    Novelette.    (1863.) 

"  The  man  here  grew  up  in  sheer  want.  He  is  seeking  for 
evangelical  people,  he  is  indignant  over  l  senseless  injustice, 
boundless  injury/  His  heart  is  full  of  pain  at  the  sight  of 
human  suffering.  He  reads  nothing  but  the  Bible.  He  thinks 
himself  a  preacher  of  God's  word.  He  goes  to  the  people  to 
preach  and  help,  but  fails  lamentably,  grows  disappointed, 
becomes  a  laughing-stock  in  the  eyes  of  the  people,  and  finally 
commits  suicide.  Everybody  thinks  he  is  a  clown,  and  only 
a  few  realize  his  great  moral  powers  and  his  great  tragedy." 

R.  Sementkovsky. 

2.  Nowhere.    Novel.    (1864.) 

"  The  very  name  of  the  novel  indicates  that  contemporary 
social  movements  are  nothing  but  bubbles,  mirages,  smoke. 
The  best  people  can  move  '  nowhere ':  the  old  is  rotten,  the 
new  is  not  trustworthy.  Two  ideal  types  occupy  the  fore- 
ground, an  ideal  Socialist,  Reiner,  and  an  ideal  nihilist,  Liza. 
Reiner  is  animated  by  the  death  of  his  father,  a  Swiss  revolu- 
tionary, who  was  shot.  Reiner  is  disappointed  in  European 
life  and  comes  to  Russia,  where  he  hopes  to  find  genuine  Social- 
ism rooted  in  the  plain  masses  of  the  people.  What  he  finds 
is  a  crowd  of  corrupt  nihilists.  In  desperation  he  throws  him- 
self into  the  Polish  revolt,  where  he  hopes  to  find  true  Social- 
ism, but  he  finds  nothing  of  the  kind,  falls  into  captivity  and 
dies  on  the  scaffold.  Liza  is  oppressed  in  family  life,  she  seeks 
a  way  out  in  the  revolutionary  movement,  but  she  meets  the 
same  nihilists.  Disappointed,  she  knows  not  where  to  betake 
herself,  she  finds  that  she  can  go  nowhere,  and  finally  dies." 

A.  M.  Skabitchevsky. 

The  novel  aroused  the  indignation  of  progressive  Rus- 
sia, which  thought  the  pictures  of  the  nihilists  a  malicious 
attack  on  radical  Russia.  The  following  novel,  however, 
overshadowed  Nowhere  by  its  mistreatment  of  the  ni- 
hilists. 


124      GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

3.  At  Knives' Points.    Novel.    (1870-1871.) 
Describes  the  nihilists  as  a  group  of  criminals  and 

bloodthirsty  monsters.    Two  large  volumes. 

"  It  is  inconceivable  that  the  most  radical  part  of  society 
at  that  time,  especially  the  youth,  could  have  contained  only 
crooks,  clowns,  and  madmen.  The  hero  of  the  novel  commits 
the  following  crimes:  he  manages  to  have  his  friend  searched 
and  arrested;  he  sells  his  friend,  literally,  for  9,500  rubles, 
to  a  lady  who  is  in  need  of  a  husband;  he  keeps  a  sub-rosa 
pawnshop;  he  steals  letters  and  forges  a  number  of  notes; 
he  seduces  three  girls;  finally  he  crowns  his  career  by  killing 
his  lover's  husband.  The  other  heroes  rival  with  him,  and  in 
general  the  author  pictures  a  black  hole  teeming  with  outcasts 
against  whom  struggle  the  ideal  heroes  of  a  conservative  type, 
courageously  but  vainly." 

A.  I.   BOGDANOVITCH. 

After  the  appearance  of  this  novel,  Lyeskov  was  liter- 
ally ostracized  by  progressive  Russia. 

4.  The  Churchmen.    Novel.     (1872.) 

5.  Odds  and  Ends  from  an  Archbishop's  Life.    Sketches. 

(1878.) 
Lyeskov  was  truly  religious,  and  in  his  writings  often 
described  the  life  of  the  clergy. 

"  The  two  main  heroes  of  The  Churchmen,  the  priest  of  the 
Cathedral  and  his  deacon,  are  drawn  with  a  master  hand.  The 
good-naturedness  of  the  latter,  the  quiet,  cordial  warmth  of 
the  former,  make  them  almost  proverbial.  The  priest's  diary 
leads  us  into  the  most  intimate  corners  of  Russian  church  life, 
revealing  many  causes  of  the  shortcomings  in  our  clergy.  Lye- 
skov manifests  here  an  admirable  knowledge  of  the  class  he 
describes,  and  the  priest  makes  such  a  sympathetic  impression 
that  the  reader  grows  to  love  him.  The  priest's  attitude  to- 
wards the  clerical  and  civil  authorities  is  reproduced  very 


N.  S.  LYESKOV  125 

truthfully.  On  the  contrary,  his  struggle  against  the  dark 
forces  of  faithlessness  and  revolution,  contains  much  artificial 
fun  and  obviously  impossible  situations." 

K.  Golovin. 

Odds  and  Ends  from  an  Archbishop's  Life  bore  the 
character  of  almost  scandalous  revelations  and  put  Lye- 
skov  into  disfavor  with  the  authorities.  He  had  to  quit 
a  governmental  position  in  consequence. 

6.  The  Enchanted  Wanderer  (1873)  and  other  legends 
composed  in  the  spirit  of  the  people's  beliefs. 

"  After  Tolstoi  and  Dostoyevsky,  Lyeskov  is  decidedly  the 
most  outspoken  religious  writer  in  the  entire  Russian  litera- 
ture of  the  nineteenth  century.  His  religious  feeling  through- 
out the  major  part  of  his  life  was  perfectly  satisfied  with  the 
Greek  Orthodox  Church,  in  which  he  saw  a  worthy  expression 
of  the  Christian  spirit.  He  loved  also  the  outward  forms  of 
Church  service.  Christianity,  to  him,  was  inseparable  from 
nationalism.  He  conceived  Christianity  not  as  an  abstract 
dogma,  but  he  took  it  in  the  way  it  is  understood  and  ex- 
pressed by  the  plain  people." 

N.  O.  Lerner. 


M.  E.  SALTYKOV  (SHCHEDRIN)  (1826-1889) 

Satirist.  Was  a  high  governmental  official  prior  to  de- 
voting himself  to  literature.  Knew  bureaucracy  from 
the  inside.  Possessed  an  enormous  talent  of  reducing  to 
absurdity  the  objects  of  his  satire.  There  is  something 
venomous,  implacable,  almost  cruel,  almost  uncanny  in 
the  way  he  follows  every  crevice  in  the  soul  of  his  victim, 
exposing  meanness,  vulgarity,  inefficiency,  hypocrisy, 
ridiculing,  castigating,  branding  with  mockery,  and  laugh- 
ing, laughing.  .  .  .  Compared  with  Shchedrin,  Gogol 
appears  almost  tame.  Shchedrin  is  grim.  He  is  serious. 
He  is  masterful.  Only  after  a  while  the  reader  realizes 
the  grotesqueness  of  this  serious  face,  and  a  gruesome 
gaiety  takes  hold  of  him.  Shchedrin  is  a  realist.  Hardly 
ever  has  a  Russian  writer  descended  as  deeply  as 
Shchedrin  into  the  mire  of  human  minds  and  into  the  filth 
in  social  conditions.  He  shared  with  Gogol  his  con- 
tempt for  the  bureaucrat  and  the  noble  landlord,  but  he 
discovered  in  Russia  a  new  type  that  was  only  an  embryo 
in  GogoPs  times:  the  modern,  "real  Russian,"  bour- 
geois. 

Shchedrin's  manner  was  a  result  of  the  press  censor- 
ship in  Russia.  It  was  the  necessity  of  preserving  an  in- 
nocent appearance,  of  talking  in  a  detached  way  about 
things  that  hurt  most,  of  hinting  and  alluding  to  topics 
which  could  not  be  discussed,  at  the  same  time  keeping 
the  tone  of  loyalty  and  devotion  to  the  existing  powers, 
that  shaped  Shchedrin's  form.     His  most  satirical  and 

126 


M.  E.  SALTYKOV  127 

most  effective  volumes  are  those  where  he  speaks  the 
language  of  a  bureaucrat. 

"  Pity  and  sympathy  for  the  masses  of  the  people  who  suffer 
under  hard  labor,  ignorance,  and  darkness;  a  contempt  for 
the  same  masses  who  bore  on  their  shoulders  the  ugly  order 
of  things  which  oppressed  it, — this  is  the  leading  tendency  of 
Shchedrin's  works,  the  foundation  of  his  formidable  and  scorn- 
ful satire. 

"  Shchedrin's  creative  work  is  surprisingly  versatile.  There 
is  not  a  subject  that  escaped  his  penetrating  eyes  and  thus 
failed  to  arouse  his  scornful  indignation.  He  attacked  all 
the  reactionary  elements  both  in  the  ranks  of  the  government 
and  in  society ;  he  attacked  the  class  privileges  of  the  nobility, 
the  liking  for  serfdom  among  the  landlords,  the  exploitation 
of  the  village  capitalists,  the  new  bourgeoisie,  the  stock-ex- 
change people  and  the  man  of  affairs,  the  idle  talk  and  the 
superficial  liberalism  of  the  Zemstvos,  the  hypocrites,  impos- 
tors, seekers  for  easy  money." 

D.  N.  OVSYANIKO-KULIKOVSKY. 

1.    The  Family  Golovlev.    Novel.    (1880.) 

The  story  of  the  decadence  of  a  noble  family,  perhaps 
the  strongest  arraignment  of  the  nobility  ever  written  in 
Russian.  Porfiri  Golovlev,  the  main  figure,  combines 
voracious  greed  with  oily  piety,  demoniacal  sensuality 
with  a  righteous  appearance,  vicious  cruelty  with  suavity 
of  manner,  frightful  hollowness  of  soul  with  constant 
moral-preaching.  The  choking  grave-like  odors  of  de- 
caying flesh  are  rising  from  this  monstrous  book  which, 
in  spite  of  its  exaggerations,  bears  a  sinister  resemblance 
to  real  life.  "  Judas  "  Golovlev,  as  the  name  of  the  hero 
is  known  in  Russia,  became  a  black  symbol.  It  has  been 
applied  to  many  a  known  leader  in  Russia,  and  fitted 
well.  Shchedrin's  analytical  power  and  overwhelming 
realism  reach  a  climax  in  this  book.    It  is  a  book  of  social 


i28      GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

criticism,  and  also  represents  one  of  the  most  valuable 
studies  in  human  nature. 


2.   Monrepos  the  Refuge.    Novel,    (i 878-1 879.) 

This  is  the  history  of  the  advent  of  modern  capitalism 
in  Russia  over  the  debris  of  the  feudal  order,  which  re- 
ceived its  mortal  blow  with  the  abolition  of  serfdom  in 
1 86 1.  The  merchant  Razuvayev,  the  capitalist  hero,  the 
unscrupulous  manipulator  who  feels  the  entire  district 
as  his  personal  domain,  the  "  strong  man  "  who  disdains 
both  the  noble  gentleman  of  the  mansion  and  the  "  free  " 
agricultural  laborer,  viewing  them  as  so  many  flies  who 
are  doomed  finally  to  land  in  his  spider's  net  of  money 
power, — this  new  type  makes  in  Monrepos  his  first  ap- 
pearance in  Russian  literature.  Needless  to  say,  Shche- 
drin  hates  his  crudeness,  his  ignorance,  his  worship  of 
wealth,  and  his  assurance.  Contrasted  with  him  is  the 
old  "  noblemen's  nest "  Monrepos,  full  of  old  traditions 
and  ambitions,  but  falling  to  ruins  under  the  pressure  of 
new  economic  conditions. 

11  Monrepos  the  Refuge  is  one  of  the  masterpieces  of  the 
satirist.  In  this  unusually  striking  epic  of  the  ruin  of  the 
nobility,  you  are  particularly  impressed  by  the  skill  with  which 
the  artist  noticed  and  represented  the  inevitableness  of  the 
process.  The  fateful  end  is  felt  from  the  very  beginning  of 
the  story.  '  Finis  Monrepos  9-  approaches  as  by  itself,  as  the 
logical  consequence  of  causes  nobody  is  able  to  control." 

V.  P.  Kranichfeld. 

[Other  valuable  works  of  Shchedrin  are :  History  of  a  City; 
Sketches  of  a  Province  Town;  Male  and  Female  Pompadours; 
Letters  to  My  Aunt.] 


G.  I.  USPENSKY  ( 1 843-1902) 

An  observer  of  Russian  life  who  used  his  literary  talent 
to  depict  the  lower  strata  of  the  people,  primarily  the 
peasants,  in  a  form  that  was  a  blending  of  fiction  and 
journalism,  story  and  social  study.  As  a  Narodnik,  Us- 
pensky  saw  in  the  Russian  village  the  possibilities  of  a 
complete,  harmonious  life  based  on  a  just  social  order; 
as  an  observer  with  an  uncommonly  penetrating  eye, 
Uspensky  never  failed  to  notice  the  disintegration  of  the 
patriarchal  social  order  in  the  village  community  and  the 
changes  that  ensued;  as  a  writer  with  a  compelling  facil- 
ity and  sincerity  of  expression,  he  gave  utterance  to  all 
his  notions,  doubts,  beliefs  and  moods,  drawing  an  end- 
less number  of  sketches  of  individuals,  localities,  types, 
scenes,  conversations,  happenings,  always  aware  of  the 
ugliness  and  cruelty  of  the  life  he  depicted,  and  always 
longing  for  beauty.  Uspensky's  works  are  not  pleasant 
reading.  They  are  sometimes  uncouth  as  the  moujiks  he 
presents.  And  they  are  as  passionately  unhappy  as 
was  their  author,  who  ended  his  life  in  an  insane  asylum. 
Yet  Uspensky  possessed  an  artistic  talent,  and  his  grip 
over  the  reader  is  strong.  The  works  of  Uspensky  com- 
pelled Russia  to  think  and  to  loathe  the  misery  of  her 
conditions. 

"  An  artist  of  tremendous  gifts,  with  tremendous  possibilities 
of  thoroughly  artistic  accomplishments,  yet  torn  partly  by  cir- 
cumstances, partly  by  his  own  sensitiveness  and  passionate 
interest  in  current  events,  Uspensky  greedily  seeks  for  some- 

129 


130      GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

thing  that  is  not  torn,  that  is  not  worm-eaten  by  morbid  con- 
tradictions, that  is  whole  and  wholesome." 

N.  K.  MlKHAYLOVSKI. 

"  Uspensky  was  always  on  his  way,  always  wandering  the 
road  of  life,  listening  to  its  voices,  its  unceasing  talks,  repeat- 
ing them  in  all  the  reality  of  their  tragic-comical  contents,  and 
evten  with  all  the  subtleties  of  their  intonation.  On  the  deck 
of  a  steamer,  in  a  railroad  car,  mostly  in  the  third  class  which 
*  chatters  its  unending  chatter  in  all  the  trains  that  run  over 
the  Russian  land/  he  keeps  on  journeying  over  his  native  coun- 
try, lending  a  sensitive  ear,  bending  a  sensitive  eye  to  all  the 
'  discrepancies,  the  unhappiness,  the  burdens,  the  unsatisfied 
desires  and  unfulfilled  dreams  of  Great  and  Little  and  White 
Russia.'  Everywhere  he  is  a  seeker  of  men,  and  everywhere 
men  hasten  to  meet  him  halfway.  The  result  is  something  like 
a  psychological  ethnography,  a  series  of  journeys  into  strange 
souls  affecting  you  as  if  they  were  journeys  into  strange, 
though  not  far-off  lands." 

J.   ElCHENWALD. 

i.   In  the  Grip  of  the  Earth.     (1882.) 
2.    The  Village  Diary. 

"  In  the  Grip  of  the  Earth  (and  also  The  Village  Diary)  is 
a  sort  of  treatise  written  in  a  half-literary,  half-journalistic 
way.  The  facts  are  taken  from  real  life,  from  immediate  ob- 
servation, and  underwent  only  a  slight  literary  modeling.  The 
conclusions  from  this  material  are  drawn  in  the  prosaic  form 
of  a  discussion.  The  aim  of  these  discussions  is  to  show  that 
the  psychology  of  the  peasantry,  particularly  their  morals,  is 
a  world  in  itself,  a  world  foreign  to  us,  which  we  can  never 
understand  unless  we  trace  its  connection  with  the  peasant's 
labor,  with  the  conditions  of  his  agricultural  life,  with  the  re- 
quirements of  the  peasant  economy,  in  a  word,  with  the  '  grip 
of  the  earth'  which  is  being  cultivated  by  the  peasant  and 
feeds  him." 

D.  N.  OVSYANIKO-KULIKOVSKY. 


N.  K.  MIKHAYLOVSKY  (1842-1904) 

Sociologist,  publicist,  and  critic.  One  of  the  leading 
minds  of  Russia  for  three  decades.  As  early  as  the  sev- 
enties he  worked  out  his  famous  "  formula  of  progress  " 
which  became  the  topic  of  heated  discussions  among  Rus- 
sian thinkers.  "  Progress,"  he  wrote,  "  is  a  gradual  ap- 
proach to  the  fullest  and  most  many-sided  division  of 
labor  among  the  parts  of  an  organism  and  the  least  pos- 
sible division  of  labor  among  human  beings.  Immoral, 
unjust,  injurious,  unreasonable  is  all  that  hampers  this 
movement.  Moral,  just,  reasonable,  and  useful  is  only 
that  which  makes  society  less  complex,  thus  increasing 
the  many-sidedness  of  its  individual  members."  The 
last  two  sentences  of  the  formula  indicate  that  Mikhay- 
lovsky  considered  the  subjective  attitude  of  reasoning 
human  beings  one  of  the  important  factors  in  the  prog- 
ress of  society,  as  counteracting  the  blind  mechanical 
processes.  This  "  subjective  sociology,"  of  which  Mik- 
haylovsky  was  the  strongest  adherent,  made  him  the 
target  of  numerous  attacks  of  another  sociological  school, 
the  Marxists. 

Being  in  the  foremost  ranks  of  social  thought,  Mik- 
haylovsky  necessarily  devoted  part  of  his  attention  to 
literature  as  one  of  the  expressions  of  Russian  life.  In 
this  respect  he  differed  little  from  other  leaders. 

"  Mikhaylovsky  was  extremely  responsive  to  the  problems 
of  the  day;  he  possessed  an  extraordinary  ability  of  philosophic 
generalization,  yet  he  never  became  a  political  fighter  or  an 
academic   thinker.    He  was  a  typical  writer,  a  writer  par 

131 


132      GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

excellence.  Both  his  desire  to  influence  society  and  his  in- 
clination towards  theoretical  thinking  found  their  expression 
in  literary  work.  His  powerful  pen  gave  explanation  to  the 
main  currents  of  Russian  social  life  and  thinking,  sometimes 
even  running  ahead  of  the  times." 

N.  S.  Russanov. 


It  was  only  natural  that  Mikhaylovsky  should  become 
a  critic,  yet  he  was  a  critic  of  a  peculiar  brand.  It  was 
not  the  How  but  the  What  that  interested  him  in  a  literary 
work.  He  took  the  writer  to  account  for  his  conception 
of  life,  for  his  sociological  or  philosophic  views,  even  for 
his  characters.  He  tried  to  point  out  to  the  readers  the 
fundamental  idea  of  a  literary  work,  giving  special  atten- 
tion to  social  conditions.  When  modernism  made  its  ap- 
pearance in  Russia  towards  the  close  of  the  century, 
Mikhaylovsky  fought  against  it  with  might  and  venom. 
This  was  primarily  due  to  his  lack  of  interest  in  problems 
of  form,  in  subtleties  of  expression,  in  unusual  twists  of 
emotion. 

i.   A  Cruel  Talent.    Essay.    (1882.) 

This  is,  perhaps,  the  strongest  of  Mikhaylovsky's 
critical  essays.  A  scathing  accusation  of  Dostoyevsky  for 
the  excesses  of  cruelty  one  finds  in  his  works.  Mikhay- 
lovsky blames  the  horrors  of  prison-life  for  having  made 
Dostoyevsky  a  fiend  of  cruelty.  The  critic  fails  to  see 
that  behind  the  pictures  of  cruelty  there  is  a  heart  ago- 
nizing with  love  for  the  sufferers  and  with  a  cry  for  justice. 
The  essay  is  one-sided,  yet  it  adds  to  the  understanding 
of  the  great  writer. 

2.   G.I.  Uspensky.    Essay.    (1888.) 
A  critical  survey  of  Uspensky's  literary  character  and 


N.  K.  MIKHAYLOVSKY  133 

sociological  tendencies  with  which  Mikhaylovsky  is  in 
full  accord.  The  essay  is  written  with  deep  sympathy  for 
the  unfortunate  "  seeker  of  the  truth." 


[Other  critical   essays :   On  Turgenev;   On  Shchedrin;   The 
Right  and  Left  of  Count  L.  Tolstoi.] 


P.  YA.   (P.  YAKUBOVITCH,  known  also  as  MEL- 
SHIN  and  GRINEVITCH)   (1860-1911) 

Under  the  name  of  P.  Ya.,  a  revolutionary  prisoner,  a 
victim  of  the  fight  for  freedom,  was  sending  his  messages 
to  the  Russian  intelligentzia.  Yakubovitch  spent  more 
than  ten  years  of  his  life  in  the  katorga  (hard  labor 
prisons)  of  Siberia.  He  wrote  poems  and,  in  later  years, 
a  number  of  sketches  describing  prison-life.  He  had  no 
exceptional  artistic  talent,  but  his  very  life  and  his  ideals 
made  his  influence  strong.  He  expressed  the  attitude 
towards  life  of  the  more  radical  elements  of  Russian 
society  in  the  eighties. 

1.  Poems.    Vol.  I,  1897;  Vol.  II,  1902. 
Yakubovitch's  poems  are  full  of  pain  for  the  suffering 

of  the  people,  full  of  dreams  of  the  brotherhood  of  men. 
They  are  born  of  faith  in  the  inherent  goodness  of  the 
human  soul  and  in  the  ultimate  victory  of  justice  and 
right.  At  the  same  time,  they  give  expression  to  the  sad- 
ness and  the  longings  of  a  man  cruelly  downtrodden  by  an 
autocratic  power.  Yakubovitch's  muse  is  melancholy,  and 
yet  animated  with  admiration  for  the  fighters  who  chal- 
lenge evil. 

As  to  expression,  Yakubovitch  is  lucid,  sincere,  and  sim- 
ple. His  resemble  the  poems  of  Nekrasov,  yet  they  do 
not  mark  a  step  forward. 

2.  In  the  World  of  Castaways.    Novel.     (1895-1898.) 
A  narrative  of  prison-life  in  Siberia,  the  first  to  reach 

134 


P.  YAKUBOVITCH  135 

the  Russian  thinking  world  after  Dostoyevsky's  Memories 
from  a  Dead  House.  The  descriptions  of  this  strange 
corner  of  Russian  life,  the  character-sketches  of  various 
prisoners,  are  vivid  and  full  of  color.  In  their  time,  they 
created  a  profound  impression.  They  still  remain  one 
of  the  indispensable  documents  for  the  study  of  the  late 
katorga.  In  the  World  of  Castaways  was  published 
under  the  pseudonym  of  Melshin. 

"  Yakubovitch's  splendid  sketches  are  full  of  the  truth  of 
real  life,  cruel  truth;  at  the  same  time  the  author  manifestly 
wishes  to  defend  those  with  whom  he  had  to  live.  This,  how- 
ever, does  not  impair  the  objective  character  of  the  pictures 
in  which  he  represents  his  sleeping-board  and  balanda  (prison 
soup)  comrades.  His  narrative  is  truthful  and  calm  though 
it  contains  such  an  episode  as  the  attempt  of  the  criminal 
prisoners  to  poison  their  '  political '  fellow-sufferers, — one  of 
the  eternal  misunderstandings  looming  up  between  the  moujik 
and  the  people  who  received  as  a  historical  inheritance  the 
name  of  'barm'   (master). 

"  Together  with  truthfulness,  Yakubovitch  has  some  other 
instinct  which  helps  him  to  analyze  the  dregs  of  humanity 
found  in  prisons  and  even  there  to  detect  valuable  elements. 
He  tells  of  things  it  was  a  joy  for  himself  to  discover,  he 
shows  that  even  those  professional  murderers,  ravishers,  and 
thieves  have  moments — brief  and  seldom  though  they  be — 
in  which  their  souls  are  illuminated  by  real  humanness  and 
human  dignity." 

A.  E.  Ryedko. 


D.  N.  MAMIN-SIBIRYAK  (1852-1912) 

There  was  a  marked  difference  between  Siberia  and  the 
rest  of  Russia.  Starting  from  the  Ural  mountains,  where 
nature  is  primitive  and  people  far  less  cultured  than  in 
European  Russia,  there  stretches  an  immense  land  with 
broad  rivers,  primeval  forests,  high  unexplored  moun- 
tains, deep  lakes,  and  a  virgin  soil.  The  land  contains  tre- 
mendous riches  in  iron,  copper,  and  gold.  The  popula- 
tion, besides  aboriginal  barbaric  tribes,  consisted  of  either 
religious  rebels,  "  adherents  of  the  old  faith,"  whose  an- 
cestors centuries  ago  had  fled  from  Russia  proper  to  wor- 
ship God  in  their  own  way,  or  descendants  of  criminals 
whose  fathers  had  been  deported  to  Siberia  to  serve  their 
term  at  hard  labor.  The  rest  were  adventurers  attracted 
by  the  hope  of  easy  money  or  hungry  laborers  in  search 
of  work.  They  were  all  a  sturdy  lot,  those  Siberian  Rus- 
sians, hardened  by  rough  nature,  emboldened  by  the  fight 
against  elemental  forces,  made  self-reliant  in  the  school 
of  cruel  treatment.  They  had  more  personality,  more  of 
an  enterprising  spirit,  more  stubbornness  in  pursuing  their 
aims,  and  more  physical  vigor. 

The  centers  of  life  in  Siberia  were  the  iron  and  gold 
mines  and  the  iron  works  where  up  to  1861  work  was  con- 
ducted by  slave  labor,  the  slaves  (serfs)  belonging  either 
to  private  owners  or  to  the  State;  only  after  the  abolition 
of  serfdom  was  the  wage  system  introduced.  Still,  even 
after  the  reform,  the  works  retained  many  archaic  fea- 
tures, presenting,  as  they  did,  strong  modern  industrial 
enterprises  in  the  midst  of  primitive  conditions.  In  one 
such  industrial  settlement  was  born  and  reared  Mamin, 

136 


D.  N.  MAMIN-SIBIRYAK  137 

who  later  devoted  his  talent  to  descriptions  of  Siberian 
life  and  characters  and  added  to  his  name  the  word 
Sibiryak  (the  Siberian).  Mamin  practically  discovered 
Siberia  for  Russian  fiction. 

There  is  a  strange  affinity  between  Siberia  and  Mamin's 
character  as  an  artist.  He  is  vigorous,  keen-eyed,  stirred 
by  primitive  instincts.  He  loves  wild  nature,  he  loves 
motion,  danger,  exertion.  He  enjoys  a  fierce  fight  be- 
tween man  and  an  impetuous  torrent,  between  man  and 
his  passions,  or  between  two  clans  of  a  Siberian  village. 
He  follows  his  hunters,  his  gold-seekers,  his  outlaws  with 
unabating  sympathy.  At  the  same  time  he  is  aware  of  the 
recklessness,  lawlessness,  cruelty,  and  exploitation  pre- 
vailing in  the  Siberian  settlements.  He  knows  thoroughly 
the  business  of  the  plants,  the  intrigues,  greed,  and  cow- 
ardly meanness  accompanying  the  lust  for  gold.  He 
paints  all  this  with  bold,  fresh  strokes.  Yet,  to  apply  his 
own  expression,  he  is  an  "  unorganized  character  "  as  a 
writer.  The  artistic  and  the  indifferent  follow  in  his 
works  in  rapid  succession.  His  works  lack  structure. 
Events  are  heaped  for  their  own  sake  with  only  a  slight 
organic  connection.  With  all  this  he  is  refreshing.  He 
sounds  his  own  clear  note. 

"  From  a  purely  artistic  standpoint,  Mamin's  assets  are  his 
ability  to  compose  broad  pictures  of  mass-movements,  an  un- 
usually rich  vocabulary  of  the  plain  people's  language,  full  of 
striking  sayings  and  similes,  shot  through  with  a  wealth  of 
embellishments  and  by-words,  and  a  marvelously  fluent  natu- 
ral dialogue.    In  the  latter  he  sometimes  reaches  perfection. 

"  Mamin's  shortcomings  are,  besides  the  '  chaotic  '  character 
of  his  writings,  a  good  deal  of  carelessness,  an  inclination  to 
repetition  and  long-windedness,  and  a  naive  artificiality  of 
plot,  especially  in  his  big  novels." 

M.  Nevedomsky. 


138      GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

"  Hardly  any  Russian  writer  exceeds  Mamin  in  the  artistic 
presentation  of  mass-movements.  Not  that  Mamin  makes  it 
his  task  to  depict  movements  of  crowds,  conflicts  of  masses. 
On  the  contrary,  his  attention  is  concentrated  on  the  experi- 
ences and  actions  of  individual  persons.  Yet  those  persons 
enter  as  parts  into  the  scheme  of  general  mass-life.  Out  of 
descriptions  of  individuals  arises  the  life  of  a  great  collective 
entity.  This  gift  of  presenting  mass-movements  makes  Mamin 
one  of  our  strongest  and  most  original  artists." 

I.  Ignatov. 

Mamin  is  known  and  loved  also  as  a  writer  of  stories 
for  children.  He  is  tender,  simple,  good-humored,  full  of 
amusing  and  touching  observations.  His  books  of  tales 
became  a  part  of  all  libraries  for  children. 

i.    Ural  Stories.    Four  volumes,     (i 888-1900.) 

"  That  the  Ural  Stories  arose  in  Mamin's  imagination  as 
1  the  witchcraft  of  beautiful  fancy/  as  intense  joy  at  recollect- 
ing the  land  of  his  birth,  as  a  bright  dream  of  its  luring  charm, 
is  their  main  artistic  value.  It  may  be  said  that  this  is  their 
substance,  not  only  for  the  writer  himself,  but  also  for  the 
reader.  Together  with  Mamin,  the  reader  is  seized  by  a  long- 
ing for  Mamin's  native  land;  he  is  drawn  into  that  enchanted 
world  of  virgin  forests,  swift  mountain  brooks,  clear  lakes, 
adroit  and  feverish  mining  work,  and  the  vast  and  complicated 
activities  of  the  ancient  iron  plants.  In  Mamin's  presentation, 
all  this  is  attractive,  fairy-like,  unusual;  all  is  astir  with  an 
energetic,  unique  life.  Interesting  people  and  interesting  oc- 
currences are  to  be  met  at  every  step.  Unusually  strong  emo- 
tions, unusual  characters  are  very  frequent.  Everything  shines 
with  special  brilliance;  altogether  it  gives  you  the  feeling  of 
some  particular,  purely  Russian  beauty.  ...  In  reading 
Mamin's  sketches,  you  experience  a  desire  to  wander,  with  a 
rifle  on  your  shoulder,  somewhere  on  the  Shikhan  or  near  the 
Miass  or  along  the  Tchusovaya  river,  you  wish  to  plunge  into 
that  Russia,  even  ancient  Russia  which  has  survived  there, 
both  in  nature  and  in  the  people." 

E.  Anitchkov. 


D.  N.  MAMIN-SIBIRYAK  139 

2.  A  Nest  in  the  Mountains.    Novel.    (1884.) 
Mamin  finds  the  Siberian  iron  and  gold  mines  in  a 

period  of  transition.  The  old  system  of  production  gives 
way  to  new  capitalistic  methods.  The  mines  are  rapidly 
changing  hands.  Corporations  are  succeeding  individual 
or  state  ownership  and  management.  Yet  modern  effi- 
cient industrialism  is  not  easily  established  in  a  country 
like  Siberia.  The  first  attempts  are  a  failure.  The  old 
is  destroyed,  the  new  has  not  yet  grown  to  full  life. 
Abuses,  frauds,  exploitation  under  such  conditions  are  in- 
evitable.   The  worst  instincts  of  man  are  let  loose. 

This  is  particularly  manifest  in  the  novel  A  Nest  in  the 
Mountains.  The  narrative  centers  around  the  arrival  of 
the  owner  of  the  plant  from  abroad  for  inspection.  The 
owner  is  immensely  wealthy  and  bored  and  has  no  interest 
in  the  plant.  He  is  practically  a  plaything  in  the  hands 
of  his  satellites  who  have  nothing  but  their  selfish  inter- 
ests in  mind.  The  characters  of  the  Siberian  "  sharks  " 
are  drawn  in  the  novel  very  clearly. 

3.  Three  Ends.    Novel.    (1890.) 

Three  Ends  is  a  study  of  the  life,  habits  and  customs  of 
three  distinct  groups  of  Russian  workers  engaged  in  a 
cast-iron  foundry  and  inhabiting  three  districts  of  a  Si- 
berian village.  The  narrative  finds  the  population  still 
in  the  chains  of  serfdom.  The  author  follows  the  life  of 
the  village  through  the  great  reform  and  the  subsequent 
ruin  of  the  enterprise.  The  novel  is  valuable  as  a  first- 
hand study  in  the  character  of  Russian  masses. 

4.  Stories  and  Tales  (for  children). 

[The  number  of  books  by  Mkmin  reaches  fifty.  The  student 
may  be  interested  in  his  Siberian  Stories  (3  volumes);  Gold, 
a  novel;  Impetuous  Torrent,  a  novel;  Privalot/s  Millions,  a 
novel.] 


P.  D.  BOBORYKIN  (1836-) 

Probably  the  most  prolific  Russian  novelist  who  for  more 
than  half  a  century  was  ably  and  truthfully  describing 
social  developments  and  social  conditions  in  a  country 
just  entering  the  era  of  industrialism.  Boborykin's  works 
may  be  compared  to  a  succession  of  photographic  pictures 
taken  from  actual  life.  Lacking  the  depth  and  high 
artistic  qualities  of  the  outstanding  figures  of  Russian 
literature,  he  is  none  the  less  indispensable  in  the  study 
of  Russian  social  life.  His  novels  are  always  attractive, 
full  of  interesting  conversations,  populated  by  types 
snatched  from  the  very  centers  of  public  attention  at 
certain  moments,  and  made  vivid  by  plot  and  action. 
His  attention  was  particularly  turned  to  the  rise  of  a 
middle-class  in  Russia,  a  subject  which  few  novelists  con- 
sidered. 

"None  of  our  modern  writers  equals  Boborykin  in  the 
ability  to  grasp  the  present  moment  of  life,  just  that  live 
nerve  which  is  pulsating  to-day.  Each  of  his  novels  depicts 
that  which  our  society  lives  on  to-day,  and  a  series  of  his 
works  may  serve  as  an  artistic  chronicle  of  the  currents  pass- 
ing in  our  society." 

A.  M.  Skabitchevsky. 

1.    Men  of  Affairs.    Novel.     (1872-1873.) 

"  Men  of  Affairs  introduces  us  into  that  part  of  our  society  of 
the  sixties  in  the  capital  which  in  one  way  or  another,  directly 
or  indirectly,  was  drawn  into  the  turmoil  of  feverish  under- 
takings, speculation,  concessions.    This  is,  in  our  literature, 

140 


P.  D.  BOBORYKIN  141 

perhaps  the  most  striking  document  depicting  that  transition 
from  a  patriarchal  system  and  a  i  natural  economy '  to  a 
bourgeois  order  and  money  economy  which  came  with  the 
force  of  a  historic  necessity  after  the  abolition  of  serfdom 
(in  1 861)  and  was  accelerated  by  the  reforms  of  the  sixties 
and  the  construction  of  railways.  The  novel  is  full  of  unusual 
vividness  and  color." 

D.  N.  OVSYANIKO-KULIKOVSKY. 

2.  Kitay-Gorod.    Novel.     (1882.) 

3.  Mountain  Summit.    Novel.    (1894.) 

Both  novels  lead  us  into  the  intimate  circle  of  middle- 
class  life  in  Moscow  (Kitay-Gorod  is  one  of  the  business 
sections  of  Moscow).  The  author  selected  Moscow  be- 
cause, of  all  Russia,  that  city  retained  most  of  the  origi- 
nal national  color,  and  the  transition  of  its  middle-class 
from  patriarchal  modes  of  living  to  modern  culture  and 
European  ideas  was  more  slow  and  more  picturesque  here 
than  elsewhere.  In  these  two  novels  Boborykin  makes 
interesting  studies  of  the  psychology  of  the  middle-class, 
both  men  and  women.  We  witness  the  growth  of  con- 
sciousness of  power  on  the  part  of  a  new  social  factor 
and  its  rising  to  new  standards. 

4.  Vassili  Tyorkin.    Novel.    (1892.) 

The  hero  of  this  novel  is  a  peasant  who,  through  per- 
sonal energy  and  pluck,  has  risen  to  the  position  of  a  rich 
man  of  affairs  and  is  a  great  power  in  the  community. 
Tyorkin  is  clever,  far-sighted,  efficient.  He  is  very  suc- 
cessful in  business,  yet  he  is  alive  to  the  needs  of  the  poor 
peasants  and  is  giving  much  consideration  to  the  problem 
of  relieving  their  misery.  Tyorkin  is  an  entirely  new  type 
in  Russia.  He  is  no  dreamer.  He  does  not  believe  in  the 
inherent  ideal  element  the  intellectuals  claimed  to  discover 


i42      GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

in  the  "people."  He  has  no  use  for  social  Utopia. 
What  he  wished  was  a  healthy,  normal  development  on 
the  basis  of  the  existing  economic  and  social  order. 

Boborykin  wrote  also  a  number  of  very  successful 
plays. 


A.  P.  CHEKHOV  (1860-1004) 

Fundamentally,  Chekhov  is  of  a  happy  disposition. 
He  loves  life.  He  loves  fun,  merriment,  laughter.  He  is 
fond  of  every  creature  that  lives  and  thrives  on  the  earth. 
He  would  like  to  feel  that  the  world  is  all  sun-lit,  full  of 
wonders,  and  that  great  masses  of  people  are  celebrating 
in  it  some  festive  holiday. 

Fundamentally,  Chekov  is  a  good  friend.  He  would 
like  to  have  a  witty,  animated  and  serious  talk  with  clever 
persons  who  have  a  keen  eye  for  the  events  of  life.  He 
could  tell  so  many  curious,  funny,  sad  and  pointed  things 
about  human  relations,  provided  the  listeners  would  be 
as  sympathetic  and  alive  as  he  is.  At  the  same  time 
he  would  smile  a  wise  smile  and  think  that  life  is  worth 
living. 

Yes,  fundamentally  Chekhov  has  a  desire  and  an  apti- 
tude for  a  beautiful,  a  thoughtful,  peaceful  and  spiritual 
life  akin,  perhaps,  to  the  carefree  existence  of  ancient  Greek 
wizards.  Yet  he  resembles  a  tropical  plant  that  opened 
its  blossoms  in  the  dreary  air  of  a  northern  country.  He 
was  a  son  of  the  eighties  in  Russia.  Surrounding  life  was 
more  than  sad.  It  was  horror-stricken.  The  intelligentzia 
was  afraid  not  only  to  revolt,  but  even  to  be  dissatisfied. 
People  made  attempts  to  adapt  even  their  psychology  and 
their  ideology  to  brutal  political  and  social  environments. 
That  was  the  time  when  the  dominating  theory  was,  "  No 
broad  aspects;  no  universal  aspirations;  do  your  little  bit 
of  work  in  your  tiny  corner,  and  don't  stir."  That  was 
the  time  of  broken  wills,  of  well-meaning  creatures  with- 

143 


144      GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

out  backbones,  of  shedding  tears  over  one's  own  weakness 
and  still  finding  in  this  very  weakness  a  justification  for 
one's  unseemly  existence.  That  was  the  time  of  no  hope, 
no  prospect,  no  way  out  of  misery. 

Chekhov,  the  sun-loving  and  fun-loving  young  artist, 
opened  his  eyes  to  find  himself  in  the  midst  of  this 
horror-smitten  ugliness.  It  did  not  break  him,  because 
his  sense  of  life  was  too  strong.  It  did  not  make  him 
even  gloomy,  because  his  sense  of  humor  and  witticism 
was  inexhaustible.  It  only  made  him  subdued.  He  did 
not  become  a  hater  of  life,  yet  a  strain  of  melancholy 
sounds  all  through  his  work.  He  did  not  lose  his  longing 
for  a  perfect  existence,  yet  he  transferred  the  possibility 
of  human  perfection  into  the  remote  future,  "  perhaps 
some  tens  of  thousands  of  years  from  our  time."  The 
present  had  no  prospect  for  him.  Life  is  just  a  strange 
conglomeration  of  strange  occurrences,  some  sad,  some 
humorous,  some  ugly  or  pitiful,  with  no  general  tendency 
and  no  possibility  of  betterment.  People  are  a  great  host 
of  prisoners  shut  in  a  huge  building  where  each  has  an 
opportunity  to  manifest  his  individual  traits  and  to  do 
something,  small  or  great,  only  to  pass  away  and  vanish 
forever.  There  is  thought,  and  there  is  aspiration,  and 
there  is  love,  and  there  is  greatness,  but  all  this  is  sub- 
merged in  the  original  sadness  and  meanness  of  things, 
and  leads  nowhere.  This  is  why  there  is,  perhaps,  no 
great  difference  between  good  and  evil. 

Thus  Chekhov  became  a  wise  observer  with  a  wistful 
smile  and  an  aching  heart.  He  resembled  a  jovial  strong 
fellow  bed-ridden  by  an  incurable  disease,  who  sees  every 
detail  of  life  more  clearly  and  with  a  sounder  judgment 
than  the  healthy  ones,  but  cannot  suppress  the  everlast- 
ing nagging  pain  in  his  own  body.    Chekhov's  soul  is  full 


A.  P.  CHEKHOV  145 

of  forgiveness.  He  is  never  irritated.  He  does  not  curse, 
nor  bless.  He  is  like  a  father  who  sees  the  follies  of  his 
children  and  cannot  help  being  amused  over  the  trifles 
they  are  concerned  with.  He  has  a  better  insight  into  the 
reality  of  things  than  those  little  children — humanity  at 
large — he  can  tell  about  them  so  many  interesting  details, 
but  he  certainly  would  not  weep  or  suffer  on  their  account. 
He  may  even  think  how  happy  children  are;  a  sigh 
may  silently  escape  his  heart;  his  head  would  bend  a 
little  lower;  his  story  would  then  become  one  shade  more 
melancholy.  "  People  passed  before  me  with  their  loves," 
Chekhov  wrote,  "  clear  days  followed  dark  nights,  nightin- 
gales sang,  the  hay  was  fragrant,  and  all  these  things, 
dear,  wonderful  in  memory,  passed  away,  disappeared, 
leaving  no  trace,  vanished  like  mist.  .  .  .  Where  is  it 
all?  " 

Chekhov  is  delicate  and  truthful,  elegiac  and  humorous, 
soft  and  penetrating,  musical  and  crisp.  The  range  of  his 
observations  is  vast.  The  people  he  describes  belong 
more  to  the  present  time,  as  he  is  more  of  a  city  in- 
habitant than  were  the  classic  writers.  His  art  of  descrip- 
tion is  both  subtle  and  striking.  There  is  almost  magic 
in  the  way  he  contrives  to  draw  a  picture  in  a  few  seem- 
ingly simple  lines.  He  is  never  tiresome.  Russians  who 
have  read  his  stories  many  a  time,  find  a  peculiar  delight 
in  opening  a  volume  of  his  at  random  and  reading  away 
for  hours.  He  is  the  writer  who  is  a  friend,  and  whom 
the  reader  grows  to  love  with  a  tender,  admiring,  and 
bashful  love.  At  the  same  time,  none  is  as  modest  in  his 
writing  as  Chekhov. 

A  strange  fate  pursued  this  man.  It  was  on  the  eve  of 
the  revolution  in  Russia,  when  waves  of  energy  were  roll- 
ing through  the  formerly  sad  country,  and  life  acquired 


146      GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

a  new  luminous  meaning.  Chekhov,  the  bright-eyed, 
pure-hearted,  sad  friend,  unwillingly  responded.  A  note 
of  faint  hope  crept  into  his  song.  His  stories  began  to 
breathe  fresh,  invigorating  air.  But  those  were  his  last 
stories.  Chekhov  died  in  the  summer  of  1904,  one  year 
before  the  revolution. 

It  is  very  difficult  to  make  a  selection  of  his  stories  or 
plays,  and  it  is  difficult  to  characterize  any  of  them  in  a 
few  words.  "  It  is  impossible,  and  it  were  sinful  to  ana- 
lyze, thread  after  thread,  the  precious  fabric  of  Chekhov's 
works,"  wrote  a  distinguished  Russian  critic,  J.  Eichen- 
wald.  "  Such  an  operation  would  destroy  the  very  fabric, 
as  if  you  were  to  blow  away  the  gold  dust  from  the  wings 
of  a  butterfly.  The  contents  of  Chekhov's  works  cannot 
be  told  at  all;  one  has  to  read  them.  Reading  Chekhov 
means  to  drink  his  lines,  to  be  afraid  of  omitting  a  word, 
because  notwithstanding  its  simplicity — dear,  noble  sim- 
plicity— every  word  contains  an  artistic  point  of  observa- 
tion, some  unusually  striking  personification  of  nature,  a 
wonderful  detail  of  human  character." 

[One  has  to  read  two  or  three  collections  of  Chekhov's 
stories  to  gain  an  insight  into  his  talent.  His  "  humorous  " 
stories  are,  perhaps,  of  a  lesser  value  as  they  belong  to  the 
earliest  period  of  his  work.  Special  attention  is  called  to  A 
Tiresome  Story  (1891),  Ward  Number  Six  (1892),  Peasants 
(1887),  In  the  Hallow  (1900),  Three  Sisters,  play  (1900), 
Cherry  Orchard,  play  (1903),  The  Archbishop  (1902).] 


N.  G.  GARIN-MIKHAYLOVSKY  (i 852-1906) 

Not  before  the  age  of  forty  did  Garin  appear  in  the  field 
of  letters.  Up  to  that  time  he  was  a  successful  engineer, 
a  railroad  constructor  in  the  employ  of  the  central  govern- 
ment and  provincial  Zemstvo,  and  a  modern  large-scale 
farmer.  What  brought  him  into  the  realm  of  literature 
was  an  overabundance  of  vitality,  a  wealth  of  creative 
visions  which  could  not  all  be  embodied  in  his  broad  plans 
for  the  economic  improvement  of  Russia.  Even  after 
becoming  a  writer  of  high  repute,  Garin  never  abandoned 
his  other  activities.  Thus  he  represents  a  unique  combi- 
nation of  practical  work  and  artistic  achievement;  he  is 
right  in  the  midst  of  the  prose  of  life,  and  he  is  in  the 
grip  of  a  dynamic  imagination.  This  is  felt  in  his  literary 
works,  which  are  bright,  strenuous,  graphic,  vibrant  with 
living  actualities  and  permeated  with  broad  humane  un- 
derstanding. Garin  is  not  a  litterateur  whose  business  it 
is  to  observe  and  create.  Garin  gives  from  his  plenty,  he 
lives  while  he  writes,  and  what  he  writes  bears  the  stamp 
of  a  rich  personality.  It  is  genuine,  and  it  has  an  exist- 
ence of  its  own. 

"  Garin  was  all  impulse,  all  desire  to  make  the  world  happy. 
He  was  a  fearless  dreamer  with  a  noble  heart  and  an  undying 
faith.  He  was  always  full  of  ideas  and  plans;  he  lived  in  the 
higher  sense  of  the  word.  He  was  always  creating  new  enter- 
prises, new  projects,  producing  veritable  fireworks  of  daring 
ideas.  At  the  same  time  he  had  a  happy  character,  a  good, 
tender  heart;  he  was  friendly  to  all." 

P.  V.  Bykov. 

147 


148      GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

"There  was  something  of  the  Hellene  in  Garin's  nature. 
He  was  brilliant  and  exquisite,  as  if  he  had  come  from  the 
splendid  times  of  Athens.  He  had  a  passionate  love  for  the 
beautiful  and  the  artistic.  .  .  .  There  was  genuine  charm  in 
this  sensitive,  refined,  nervous,  artistic  nature,  which  was  mar- 
velously  tender  and  entirely  sincere.  .  .  .  Garin  was  full  of 
elemental  power.  He  wrote  as  the  bird  sings,  as  the  flower 
sheds  its  fragrance.  Few  writers  created  images  with  such 
facility  and  ease,  and  few  are  so  fortunate  as  to  have  every  ex- 
pression so  inevitably  assume  an  artistic  form." 

S.  Ya.  Yelpatievsky. 

Garin  was  accepted  among  the  realistic  writers  of  the 
first  rank.    He  was  one  of  the  most  widely  read  authors. 

i.    The  Trilogy,  consisting  of  the  following  novels: 
Tyoma's  Childhood.    (1882.) 
Gymnasium  Pupils.     (1893.) 
Students.     (1895.) 

Fundamentally  the  trilogy  is  the  history  of  Tyoma 
Kartashev's  childhood,  adolescence,  and  youth.  As  such 
it  shows  the  growth  of  a  distinct  personality  groping  for 
the  realization  of  possibilities  inherent  in  its  nature. 
Dealing  with  essentials  of  human  character  common  to  all 
civilized  mankind  and  being  written  with  a  masterful  hand 
that  throws  individualized  figures  into  a  clear  relief,  the 
trilogy  assumes  a  more  than  national  significance.  Look- 
ing back  to  his  own  youth,  every  modern  man  will  find 
something  in  common  with  Tyoma  Kartashev's  experi- 
ences. 

At  the  same  time,  the  trilogy  is  distinctly  Russian.  The 
background  of  a  surburban  estate  in  southern  Russia, 
where  the  boy's  childhood  is  passed,  the  gymnasium,  the 
teachers,  the  pupils,  the  University  in  the  capital,  the 
student's  life,  all  this  is  described  with  great  accuracy  and 


N.  G.  GARIN-MIKHAYLOVSKY  149 

skill.  The  life  of  Kartashev's  family,  both  material  and 
moral,  the  characters  of  each  member  of  the  family,  the 
characters  of  friends  and  acquaintances,  are  drawn  care- 
fully and  are  true  to  life.  Altogether  the  trilogy  gives  a 
panorama  of  the  world  in  which  the  children  of  well-to-do 
Russian  families  grew  up  in  the  second  half  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  (and  perhaps  even  later).  Full  of  vigor 
and  creative  optimism  as  was  Garin,  he  could  not  over- 
look the  dark  sides  of  Russian  realities.  Light  and 
shadow  alternate  in  his  novels. 

Special  value  is  attached  to  the  trilogy  as  a  study  of 
the  regime  in  Russian  gymnasia, — that  curse  of  Russian 
youth  for  many  generations.  The  history  of  Tyoma  Kar- 
tashev  is  the  history  of  a  constant  fight  between  a  richly 
gifted,  spontaneous,  imaginative,  temperamental  youth 
and  the  deadening  regime  of  a  bureaucratic  school  con- 
ducted in  the  spirit  of  military  barracks,  with  the  aim  of 
killing  personality  and  choking  the  inquisitive  mind. 

It  was  due  to  this  side  of  the  trilogy  that  it  became  a 
favorite  among  young  students  in  Russia. 

2.   A  Few  Years  in  the  Village.     (1892.) 

When  Garin  bought  a  75,000  ruble  estate  and  settled 
down  to  introduce  new  methods  of  agriculture,  he  was 
mindful  not  only  of  himself  but  also  of  the  surrounding 
peasantry.  It  was  his  desire  to  help  the  peasants,  by 
acting  as  an  example  and  by  teaching  them  how  to  do 
away  with  their  archaic  methods.  He  gave  himself  to  the 
task  with  all  the  practical  knowledge  in  his  possession  and 
all  the  fanatical  devotion  of  his  personality.  It  would 
have  been  a  success  if  the  peasants  had  not  failed  to  see 
in  Garin  a  friend  and  had  not  followed  the  injurious 
advice  of  the  exploiters  in  their  own  midst  rather  than  the 


150      GROWTH  OF  A  NATIONAL  LITERATURE 

useful  advice  of  a  "  gentleman."  Four  times  the  peasants 
burned  down  Garin's  estate,  and  in  the  end  he  was  com- 
pelled to  give  up. 

The  history  of  this  experiment  is  told  in  a  charming 
volume,  A  Few  Years  in  the  Village.  Notwithstanding  its 
specific  contents,  notwithstanding  many  excursions  into 
details  of  agriculture,  the  work  reads  like  a  story.  It  has 
something  of  the  equality  of  rural  epic.  Garin's  frank- 
ness and  simplicity  make  it  a  document  indispensable  to 
the  student  of  Russian  life. 

3.  A  Rural  Panorama.    Collection  of  stories. 

"The  total  absence  of  culture  breeds  savagery,  wretched- 
ness and  darkness  in  the  Russian  village.  People  do  not  know 
how  to  make  use  of  their  own  powers;  they  are  poor,  brutal, 
beast-like;  they  have  no  idea  of  law,  no  respect  for  the  human 
person.  Worst  of  all,  poverty  is  growing  in  the  rural  districts, 
year  in  and  year  out,  like  some  dreadful  disease.  All  this  fills 
the  series  of  Garin's  stories  A  Rural  Panorama,  where  we  find 
many  beautifully  sketched  types  of  men  and  women  and  many 
local  details.  .  .  .  With  the  great  love  of  a  thinker  and  artist, 
Garin  puts  his  panorama  in  a  natural  light  where  crimes,  hor- 
rors, mysticism,  superstition,  the  tragic  and  the  comic,  inter- 
twine and  leave  an  irresistible  impression." 

P.  V.  Bykov. 

It  must  be  noted  that  in  spite  of  many  discouraging 
experiences,  Garin  never  gave  up  the  hope  of  a  better  fu- 
ture in  rural  Russia.  What  he  wished  to  emphasize  was 
the  necessity  of  intelligent  and  persistent  work  in  this 
realm. 

4.  Short  Stories.    (1886-1906.) 

Garin  wrote  his  stories  everywhere:  on  a  sleigh  in  the 
bitter  cold,  in  railroad  cars,  in  a  tent  after  a  day  of  survey- 


N.  G.  GARIN-MIKHAYLOVSKY  151 

ing,  at  a  stage-coach  station  while  swallowing  hot  tea  and 
waiting  for  the  horses  to  be  changed.  It  is  natural  that 
his  stories  are  fresh,  vivid,  lucid.  What  is  unexpected  is 
their  finished  form  and  refinement. 


[Other  works  of  interest :  In  the  Turmoil  of  Provincial  Life; 
Korean  Fairy-Tales;  Travels  in  Korea;  Manchuria  and  the 
Liautung  Peninsula;  Engineers  (unfinished).] 


V.  G.  KOROLENKO  (1853-) 

A  story  writer.  His  talent  is  of  a  rather  narrow  scope, 
but  it  is  full  of  that  noble  idealism  which  makes  the  reader 
love  and  trust  the  author.  Charm  and  simplicity  of  ex- 
pression are  combined  in  his  works  with  a  luminous  hon- 
esty. The  caressing  hand  of  a  father  is  felt  in  all  Koro- 
lenko's  stories. 

"  Korolenko  is  dear  to  the  Russian  intelligentzia,  because  in 
his  works  a  responding  heart  is  revealed  which  no  injury,  no 
injustice  can  escape.  The  very  essence  of  his  nature  is  to  be  a 
defender,  an  aid.  Wherever  assistance  is  necessary  and  pos- 
sible, he  can  never  remain  indifferent.  Many  a  time  has  he 
raised  his  soft,  yet  firm  voice  in  defense  of  the  injured.  The 
arrow  of  social  conscience  always  tends  in  the  direction  indi- 
cated by  Korolenko,  and  if  you  follow  him  you  are  sure  to  fol- 
low the  truth.  Fate  has  sent  him  frost  and  cold  in  abundance, 
yet  under  a  snow-bound  life  he  preserved  a  warm  heart. 

"  The  same  indefatigable  humanism  which  marks  the  activi- 
ties of  Korolenko  in  political  and  social  life  is  also  the  salient 
feature  of  his  writings.  His  works  kindle  the  fire  of  love  and 
good.  Korolenko  educates,  because  his  works  may  serve  as  a 
school  of  pity  and  love.  One  of  the  most  striking  characteristics 
of  his  moral  and  literary  make-up  is  a  peculiar  politeness,  this 
word  being  used  in  its  most  positive  and  sublime  meaning. 
He  never  forgets  human  dignity,  the  sacred  rights  of  human 
beings;  he  grants  them  even  to  those  who  will  not  admit  them 
in  others." 

J.  ElCHENWALD. 

1.   Siberian  Stories.    (1901.) 

An  exile  in  Eastern  Siberia  for  many  years,  Korolenko 
had  an  opportunity  to  make  first-hand  studies  of  what 

152 


V.  G.  KOROLENKO  153 

was,  perhaps,  the  hardest  experience  of  progressive  Rus- 
sian intellectuals.  Yet,  in  these  frost-breathing  stories 
there  is  no  hatred,  no  bitterness,  not  even  against  officials. 
They  are  rather  good-natured,  clever,  and  colorful  ob- 
servations of  a  God-forsaken  corner  of  the  world  where 
people  live  in  the  most  primitive  conditions. 

2.  Short  Stories,     (1885-1917.) 

Korolenko's  stories  are  all  very  readable  and  attractive. 
Attention  is  called  to  Yom-Kipur,  which  is  permeated  with 
sympathy  for  the  oppressed  Jew;  M altar' s  Dream,  breath- 
ing pity  for  the  ignorant  and  poor  Siberian  peasant;  The 
Old  Bellman,  an  idyl  of  rural  life;  The  Murmuring  Forest, 
where,  among  the  mystery  of  green  shadows,  a  drama  of 
love  and  jealousy  leads  to  a  cruel  end;  and  In  Bad  So- 
ciety, picturing  the  types  of  outcasts  in  a  small  town  in 
southern  Russia.  The  characters  and  nature  depicted  in 
most  of  these  stories  belong  to  southern  Russia  (Ukrai- 
nia),  though  Korolenko  writes  in  the  great  Russian  lan- 
guage. 

3.  The  Blind  Musician.    Novelette.    (1886.) 

The  story  of  a  gifted  child  born  blind,  and  groping 
its  way  to  a  conception  of  the  world.  The  entire  book 
is  a  psychological  study  born  of  the  spirit  of  love  for 
the  afflicted.  The  scene  of  the  story  is  rural  surround- 
ings, and  the  fragrance  of  the  Ukrainian  fields  and  groves 
fills  it  with  tender  sadness. 

[Another  work  of  significance,  History  of  My  Contemporary, 
an  artistic  autobiography.] 


II 


THE   "MODERNISTS" 


GENERAL  SURVEY 

Back  of  the  modernist  movement  in  Russian  literature, 
two  sets  of  social  phenomena  are  clearly  discernible. 
One  is  the  growing  complexity  of  life  in  tb^  fast.  Aprafo  o£ 
the  nineteenth  century;  the  othexis  the  grip  of  an  archaic 
political  system  deadening  the  efforts  of  sound  construc- 
tive work.  It  was  only  to  the  outside  world  that  Rus- 
sia of  that  time  seemed  a  sleeping  giant,  immovable 
and  unchanging.    In  reality,  great  transformations  were 

taking jVlgre  in  tV  prnnnmir  gtrnrtiirp^  in  *nrw)  relations, 

in  educational  ideas,  in  the__general  tone  of  life     The 
center  of  gravity  was  constantly --moving  irom  Ihe  Jaz.y^_- 
aristocratic  coimtryJiouses  to  modern  xities;  the  class  of 
nobility  was  giving  way  ±o_Jiie_^oJ:ejsj^ 
and  the  modern  business  man;  the  steam  engine  and  the 
locomotive  began  their  triumphal  march  over __th&.  plains 
of  eastern  Europe;  the  pulse  of  life  quickened;  the  ex- 
periences of  individuals  increased  in  number,  became 
more  striking  and  of  a  lesser  duration;  the  colors  gained 
in  variety  and  brightness.    Theold  subdued  harmony  _pJL 
patriarchal  Russia  was  rapidly  waning  before jnew pounds, 
and  new  voices.    On  the  other  hand,  the  chains  of  abso- 
lutism allowed  no  space  for  the  oncoming  of  modern 
forces.     Russia  was  surrounded  by  a  black,  solid  wall 
that  threatened  to  choke  all  manifestations  of  progress. 

It  is  this  unique  socio-political — atmosphere  that 
breathes  in  the  works  of  the  Russian  modernists  who 
made  their  appearance  early  in  the  nineties.  Consciously, 
and  unconsciously,  this  group  of  young  writers  was  try- 
ing to  remake  literature  in  accordance  with  the  new  im- 

157 


158  THE  "  MODERNISTS  " 

pressions  offered  by  a  modern  world.  "  The  soul  of  man 
has  grown,"  a  young  writer,  Denisov,  wrote  to  the  critic 
Volynsky  in  a  private  letter  in  1896,  "man's  conscious- 
ness has  become  brighter,  its  rays  are  longer;  we  see 
now  horizons  which  always  existed,  which  we,  however, 
failed  to  notice  through  darkness  and  sleep.  Nature,  life, 
the  world  at  large  seem  different,  they  speak  to  us  a  new 
language.  All  phenomena  have  become  transparent  to  us, 
they  have  turned  into  mere  symbols,  behind  which  some- 
thing important,  something  mysterious,  something  vitally 
significant  is  visible.  .  .  .  For  this  new  wine,  new  jugs 
are  required;  new  expression  is  needed  for  new  feelings. 
Men  treading  new  paths,  men  endowed  with  a  growing, 
brightening,  and  widening  soul,  must  also  find  new  words. 
Let  them  grope,  then,  let  them  demand.  Their  voices, 
however  feeble,  are  nearer  and  more  welcome  to  us  than 
the  strongest  and  most  beautiful  voices  of  the  past,  for 
the  mere  reason  that  the  past  is  known,  that  it  has  been 
lived  through  and  completely  expressed,  whereas  at  pres- 
ent a  strange  uneasiness  is  stirring  within  us;  it  moves  us 
towards  unknown  experiences  which  we  may  have  but  we 
are  still  unable  to  express,  and  which  we  expect  and  search 
for  in  the  creations  of  others." 

It  is,  perhaps,  not  so  much  the  contents  of  this  out- 
burst as  the  restlessness  of  its  young  author  that  marks 
the  tendency  of  the  time.  Men  had  become  aware  of 
something  new  in  the  life  of  the  country.  The  old 
standards  of  good  literature  and  noble  art  became  in- 
sufficient. Old,  lofty  motives  seemed  stale.  Old  forms 
appeared  primitive.  Shapes  of  unknown  complexity  were 
beckoning  through  the  mists  of  the  future. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  well-educated  and  high-strung 
intellectual  had  to  seek  shelter  from  the  cold  rains  and 


GENERAL  SURVEY  159 

hail  of  nasty  political  weather.  The  members  of  the  in- 
telligentzia were  not  all  inclined  to  fight  revolutionary 
battles.  The  prospect  was  gloomy.  The  black  wall 
seemed  heavy,  unshakable,  eternal.  To  exhaust  one's 
soul  in  hatred  or  to  cripple  it  by  despair,  seemed  a  useless 
expenditure  of  energy.  Ways  of  self-defense  had  to  be 
found.  Was  it  not  best  to  turn  one's  back  to  the  ugly 
wall?  Was  it  not  advisable  to  draw  a  magic  circle  from 
which  all  heinous  realities  should  be  banished?  Some- 
times it  would  seem  to  be  opportune  to  accept  the  black 
wall,  to  discover  in  it  a  power  of  good.  This  would 
make  life  possible,  if  not  easy.  As  to  real  great  values, 
they  have  to  be  searched  for,  not  among  the  stones  and 
gullies  of  a  barren  field  of  reality,  but  in  the  blossoming 
jungle  of  thought  and  fancy. 

The  group  of  intellectuals,  writers  and  thinkers,  who 
accepted  this  creed  and  carried  it  into  literature  and  art, 
became  known  as  the  modernist  school.  They  were  a 
distinct  group  by  themselves.  Hardly  noticed  at  the  be- 
ginning, very  powerful  and  influential  in  later  years,  they 
always  remained  a  separate  group.  And  although  the 
elements  of  modernism  soon  permeated  all  trends  of  Rus- 
sian creative  work,  the  modernists  as  such  never  sub- 
merged in  the  general  stream.  The  names  of  Balmont, 
Bryusov,  Merezhkovsky,  Filosofov,  Gippius,  Volynsky, 
Minsky,  Block,  Vyacheslav,  Ivanov,  Sologub,  Byely,  and 
their  younger  followers,  stand  out  as  something  apart 
from  the  rest  of  Russian  literature.  To  the  outsider  they 
appear  to  be  almost  a  secluded  masonic  order. 

It  is,  of  course,  difficult  to  give  the  general  characteris- 
tics of  a  group  in  which  every  individual  is  anxious  to 
assert  his  personality  to  the  utmost,  with  all  its  oddities 
and  wayward  moods.     Lines  of  resemblance  between 


160  THE  "  MODERNISTS  " 

creative  individuals  can  hardly,  as  a  rule,  be  drawn  with 
security.  As  regards  the  Russian  modernists,  however, 
this  task  had  been  made  somewhat  easier  by  the  theories 
carefully  framed,  eloquently  preached,  and  copiously  illus- 
trated by  the  modernists  themselves.  In  fact,  every  writer 
of  the  new  school  thought  it  his  duty  not  only  to  create, 
but  also  to  explain  why  his  work  was  the  true  art. 

Reviewing,  then,  these  theories  and  comparing  them 
with  the  accomplishments  of  the  modernists  in  the  fields 
of  fiction,  poetry,  drama,  and  literary  criticism,  we  may 
arrive  at  the  following  generalizations. 

i.  The  modernists  keep  aloof  from  social  or  political 
problems.  The  economic  misery  of  the  masses,  the 
political  chaos,  the  brutality  of  Russian  realities  are 
outside  their  range  of  vision.  They  do  not  want 
to  teach  the  people.  They  do  not  care  to  love  the 
people.  They  do  not  make  it  their  task  to  arouse  indigna- 
tion against  material  evils.  In  this,  they  radically  differ 
from  Russian  literary  traditions.  They  adore  Pushkin  as 
the  poet  of  sublime  spiritual  harmony,  but  they  do  not 
sympathize  with  Pushkin  who  wrote:  "And  long  shall 
I  be  cherished  by  the  people,  because  I  stirred  good  feel- 
ings with  my  lyre."  l  They  respect  in  Lermontov  the 
many-stringed  instrument  that  caught  sounds  from  be- 
yond, but  they  would  not  repeat  with  him:  "  Chagrined 
do  I  observe  the  present  generation,"  neither  would  they 
make  it  the  task  of  the  prophet  to  proclaim  "  the  pure 
teachings  of  love  and  truth."  Gogol  the  artist,  as  every 
true  artist,  was  close  to  their  soul.  But  Gogol  the  casti- 
gator,  Gogol  who  traveled  over  the  length  and  breadth  of 
Russia  to  show  her  miserable  conditions,  was  a  stranger 

1  This  and  subsequent  quotations  are  prose  translations  from  lines 
of  poetry  beautiful  in  their  music. 


GENERAL  SURVEY  161 

to  them.  Similarly  strange  were  Turgenev,  Gontcharov, 
Shchedrin,  Nekrasov,  Uspenky,  Alexey  Tolstoi,  and  all 
the  critics  of  former  generations,  to  the  prophets  of  the 
new  school.  Leo  Tolstoi  and  Dostoyevsky  were  much 
commented  upon  by  the  modernists,  yet  Tolstoi  was  too 
close  to  the  earth  in  their  eyes.  All  in  all,  three  names 
of  the  past,  Tuytchev,  Vladimir  Solyvyov,  the  idealistic 
philisopher,  and  Dostoyevsky,  were  respected  and  truly 
loved  by  the  "  new." 

It  is  in  keeping  with  this  attitude  that  the  "people," 
the  peasants  and  workingmen,  find  hardly  a  place  in  the 
works  of  the  modernists.  The  new  writers  have  no  use 
for  the  unthinking.  Their  attention  is  concentrated  on 
those  who  labor  their  way  through  harrowing  spiritual 
conflicts.  They  write  for  the  cultured  about  the  cultured, 
giving  utterance  to  their  internal  life  apart  from  their 
surroundings. 

Some  of  the  modernists  went  even  so  far  as  to  recog- 
nize in  autocracy  a  great  spiritual  force.  "  When  I  wrote 
my  treatise  on  Leo  Tolstoi  and  Dostoyevsky"  Merezh- 
kovsky  remarks  in  an  introduction  to  his  complete  works, 
"  I  saw,  or  desired  to  see,  a  positive  religious  force  in 
Russian  absolutism,  namely  its  connection  with  the  Rus- 
sian Faith;  I  thought,  together  with  Vladimir  Solovyov 
and  Dostoyevsky,  though  starting  from  totally  different 
premises,  that  Russian  absolutism  was  a  road  to  theoc- 
racy, to  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  on  earth."  Later,  when 
the  storms  of  the  revolution  shook  the  Russian  steppe, 
and  the  clamor  of  battles  rang  near  and  far,  Merezhkov- 
sky  and  his  colleagues  abandoned  their  faith  in  the  con- 
structive forces  of  the  autocratic  regime.  In  1905, 
Balmont  wrote  revolutionary  poems,  and  Minsky  pub- 
lished— for   a   very   short   while — a   Social-Democratic 


162  THE  "  MODERNISTS  M 

paper.  Yet  this  was  only  a  passing  tribute  to  the  spirit  of 
the  times.  Fundamentally,  the  modernists  were  not  in- 
terested in  the  struggle  for  social  reforms,  especially 
before  the  1905  revolution.  Theirs  was  an  interest  of  a 
different  order. 

2.  The  modernists  make  it  their  task  to  embody  in 
words  the  most  delicate,  most  unclear  and  fleeting  emo- 
tions of  the  human  soul.  Their  ear  seems  to  be  infinitely 
more  sensitive  than  that  of  their  predecessors.  They  hear 
the  faintest  calls  from  far  off,  the  most  subtle  harmonies 
of  a  mysterious  world,  the  throbbing  of  an  unknown  life 
diffused  everywhere.  "  The  thoughts  and  deeds  of  men 
will  pass,"  Minski  writes  in  a  poem  which  may  be  con- 
sidered as  programmatic  for  the  entire  school.  "  There 
is  one  thing,  however,  which  will  survive.  That  which 
we  now  consider  an  idle  dream,  the  unclear  yearning  after 
things  unearthly,  the  hazy  striving  somewhere,  the  hatred 
for  the  things  that  are,  the  timid  light  of  anticipation, 
and  the  burning  thirst  for  sanctities  that  are  not, — this 
alone  will  never  vanish.  ...  A  new  unknown  world  is 
faintly  visible  in  the  distance,  non-existent,  yet  eternal.' ' 
This  world  can  be  called  into  existence  through  the  magic 
of  poetry.  "  Poetry  is  internal  music  externally  ex- 
pressed in  rhythmic  words,"  Balmont  declares.  "  The 
world  needs  the  formation  of  images,"  he  writes  in  an- 
other place.  "  The  world  contains  magicians  who  by  their 
sorcery  and  by  their  singing  melody  make  the  circle  of 
existence  wider  and  richer.  Nature  gives  only  the  nucleus 
of  existence,  it  creates  unfinished  little  monsters;  the 
magician  perfects  the  work  of  nature  and  gives  life  a 
beautiful  face."  This  he  can  accomplish  only  by  care- 
fully listening  to  the  teaching  of  his  own  imagination,  by 
following  the  winding  paths  of  his  moods,  yearnings, 


GENERAL  SURVEY  163 

visions,  presentiments,  and  impulses.  Such  an  attitude 
presupposes  the  supremacy  of  human  personality  over 
the  material  world.  Man  is  not  the  slave  of  things  ma- 
terial, but  their  master.  He  is  not  bound  to  the  clay  of 
reality;  he  can  soar  high  up  into  the  realm  of  another, 
more  real,  reality.  His  wings  are  the  faculties  of  his 
spirit.  This  is  why  the  poetry  of  the  modernist  is 
more  spiritual,  more  refined,  and  of  a  more  tender  fabric 
than  the  works  of  the  older  poets.  Some  of  the  modernist 
poetry  is  almost  transparent. 

3.  This  is  in  full  harmony  with  the  philosophical  views 
of  the  school.  The  modernists  are  strong  adherents  and 
advocates  of  an  idealistic  philosophy.  They  believe  in  the 
existence  of  a  world  beyond  the  reach  of  human  experi- 
ence, in  the  existence  of  mysterious  powers  which  no  hu- 
man knowledge  will  ever  be  able  to  perceive  or  to  explain. 
The  majority  of  the  modernists  are  imbued  with  a  reli- 
gious spirit,  with  the  belief  in  a  personal  God.  "  Chris- 
tianity not  only  has  been,  but  it  is  and  will  be," 
Merezhkovsky  proclaims,  "  Christ  is  not  only  a  power 
that  has  been  perfected,  but  He  is  being  continually  per- 
fected. He  is  an  incessantly  growing  power.  The  libera- 
tion of  Russia,  the  liberation  of  the  entire  world,  can  be 
accomplished  only  in  Christ."  "  Only  faith  in  something 
infinite  can  inflame  the  human  soul,"  he  wrote  in  1892. 
"  Men  need  faith,  need  ecstasy,  need  the  sacred  madness 
of  heroes  and  martyrs.  Without  faith  in  the  divine  origin 
of  the  world,  there  can  be  on  earth  no  beauty,  no  justice, 
no  poetry,  no  freedom."  "  I  may  say,"  Zinaida  Gippius 
confesses  in  her  autobiography,  "  that  there  was  no  period 
of  irreligion  in  my  life.  The  childish  earthy  '  grand- 
mother's image-lamp  '  was  soon  overshadowed  by  life. 
Yet  life,  putting  me  face  to  face  with  the  mystery  of 


164  THE  "  MODERNISTS  w 

Death,  the  mystery  of  Personality,  the  mystery  of  the 
Beautiful,  could  not  bring  my  soul  to  a  level  where 
image-lamps  are  not  being  kindled  at  all."  Other  mem- 
bers of  the  modernist  school  may  not  have  believed  in  a 
personal  God  as  strongly  as  Merezhkovsky  or  Gippius. 
Yet  to  all  of  them,  the  material  world  was  only  a  shell  of 
something  higher  and  more  significant.  Bryusov,  one  of 
the  ablest  exponents  of  the  school,  puts  his  philosophy  in 
simple  terms.  "There  is  no  line  of  demarcation,"  he 
writes,  "  between  the  real  and  the  imaginary  world,  be- 
tween the  '  visible '  and  the  'dream/  between  'life' 
and  '  phantasy.'  The  things  we  used  to  consider  imagi- 
nary may  be  the  highest  reality  of  the  world;  the  things 
accepted  by  everybody  as  realities,  may  be  the  most 
horrid  delirium." 

In  the  light  of  this  philosophical  and  religious  creed, 
poetry  assumes  a  new  meaning.  Men  are  groping  towards 
the  mystic  reality  of  life:  poetry  is  the  way  to  approach 
it.  Men  sometimes  hear  the  voice  of  God  within  them- 
selves: poetry  is  the  way  to  express  it.  The  aim  of  poetry 
is  to  grant  the  human  spirit  access  to  the  mysteries  that 
hover  above  the  visible  world.  In  poetry,  eternal  reality 
reveals  itself  in  unknown  ways.  Poetry  is  like  a  window 
opened  into  the  beyond.  "  Art  can  reveal  its  mysteries 
only  to  the  inquisitive  mind  of  the  philosopher,"  Volynsky 
writes  in  explanation  of  the  critic's  task.  "  In  a  con- 
templative ecstasy  the  philosopher  unites  the  finite  with 
the  infinite;  he  combines  the  psychic  moods  poured  into 
poetry,  with  the  eternal  laws  of  the  development  of  the 
universe." 

Poetry,  in  the  conception  of  the  modernists,  is  no  more  a 
slave  to  life,  no  more  a  vehicle  of  pleasurable  sensations, 
not  even  a  mere  expression  of  human  thoughts  and  emo- 


GENERAL  SURVEY  165 

tions.  Poetry  becomes  sacred;  it  is  the  individuality's 
most  subtle  yet  most  powerful  instrument  in  its  struggle 
for  liberation.  Man's  soul  is  painfully  batting  against 
the  clay:  poetry  is  the  light  that  marks  the  road  to 
victory. 

4.  It  follows  that  human  personality  is  supreme  in  the 
works  of  the  modernists.  Theirs  is  also  a  rebellious  spirit, 
yet  it  rebels,  not  against  certain  manifest  evils  of  the 
existing  political  or  social  order,  but  against  all  restric- 
tions imposed  on  the  human  soul  from  without.  In  fact, 
every  code,  be  it  the  code  of  accepted  morality  or  the  code 
of  law,  in  an  autocratic  as  well  as  in  a  democratic  society, 
is  a  dead  weight  on  the  wings  of  the  human  soul.  Man 
bears  his  own  law  within  himself;  man  sees  in  the  light  of 
the  Unknown  his  right  way;  man  has  to  be  allowed  full 
freedom  to  assert  himself,  which  means  to  come  nearer  to 
his  God.  Human  institutions  created  for  the  multitude 
are  a  check  on  the  free  soul  of  free  men;  positivistic 
knowledge  pretending  to  explain  the  universe  completely, 
is  also  a  check  on  human  freedom;  materialistic  concep- 
tions in  philosophy,  ethics,  politics,  are  no  less  a  hindrance 
to  freedom.  It  follows  that  the  modernist  fights  haughtily 
against  accepted,  "  philistine,"  opinions,  against  the  domi- 
nation of  surroundings,  against  established  authorities  in 
the  spiritual  world.  He  hates  slavery,  yet  to  him  even 
the  fighter  for  freedom  is  a  wretched  slave  if  he  pursues 
nothing  but  material  improvements. 

5.  The  modernists  are  inhabitants  of  modern  cities. 
Russian  village  life,  Russian  rural  nature  only  incidentally 
appear  in  their  works.  It  is  the  study  of  an  intellectual 
in  Petersburg  or  Moscow  that  sees  the  birth  of  modernist 
works.  Quite  often  it  is  the  noisy  cafe  in  the  Latin  Quar- 
ter of  Paris,  or  a  hotel  on  the  Riviera,  or  a  lodging  house 


1 66  THE  «  MODERNISTS  " 

in  Venice.  The  Russian  modernists  prefer  to  spend  their 
time  in  conversations  with  European  thinkers  and  artists 
than  to  listen  to  the  ages-old  wisdom  of  the  moujiks. 
In  the  picture  galleries  or  the  libraries  of  Florence,  Rome, 
Vienna,  among  the  splendors  of  the  Alpine  landscapes  or 
the  enchantment  of  the  seashore  do  they  look  for  inspira- 
tion. Their  religion  breathes  the  spirit  of  old  dark  cathe- 
drals rather  than  the  free  and  primitive  faith  of  over- 
grown children  as  are  the  simple  folks  in  the  great  plains 
of  Russia. 

In  many  modernist  works,  the  clatter  and  throbbing  of 
modern  city  life  can  be  clearly  heard.  In  a  number  of 
strong  poems,  Bryusov,  notably,  pictured  the  industrial 
city.  Others  paid  a  smaller,  yet  very  distinct  tribute  to 
the  scenes  of  modern  urban  life.  Not  only  in  these  direct 
descriptions,  however,  but  in  the  rhythm,  in  the  tone,  in 
the  succession  of  light  and  shadows,  in  the  assonances 
and  dissonances  of  the  modernists'  works  is  felt  the  change 
in  the  character  of  society.     (Balmont,  Gippius.) 

6.  Most  of  the  modernists  are  very  well  acquainted 
with  philosophy  and  have  an  extensive  knowledge  of 
European  literature.  Some  of  them  know  a  number  of 
modern  languages.  It  is  hardly  just  to  say  that  they  are 
moved  by  foreign  examples.  Such  spontaneous  outbursts 
of  new  ideas  in  literature  and  art  cannot  be  ascribed  to 
external  and  accidental  causes,  especially  in  view  of  the 
lasting  character  and  the  valuable  contributions  of  the 
new  school.  Yet  it  cannot  be  denied  that,  at  least  in  the 
initial  stages  of  their  work,  the  modernists  were  greatly 
influenced  by  a  number  of  foreign  thinkers  and  poets. 
Edgar  Allan  Poe  dominated  the  imagination  of  Balmont 
and  Bryusov  more,  perhaps,  than  any  of  the  dead  or 
living  artists.    Nietzsche's  influence  was  not  less  marked. 


GENERAL  SURVEY  167 

Maeterlinck  was  more  cited  and  referred  to  than  Ibsen, 
both  of  them  exemplifying  symbolist  forms  and  methods. 
Knut  Hamsun  was  one  of  the  favorites.  The  French 
poets,  notably  Verlaine,  Baudelaire  and  Villiers  de  LTsle- 
Adam,  were  in  great  vogue.  All  these  authors  were  de- 
voutly and  lovingly  translated  into  Russian  or  commented 
upon  by  the  adherents  of  the  new  school.  It  must  be 
emphasized,  however,  that  of  all  foreign  poets,  the  cult 
of  Poe  was  supreme.  Men  were  speaking  of  the  deep 
revelations  contained  in  his  stories.  Men  were  citing  his 
poems  as  masterpieces  of  musical  rhythm  expressing  an 
indomitable  spirit. 

Along  with  these  influences  there  is  a  revival  of  interest 
in  classic  literatures,  Greek  and  Roman.  The  tragedies 
of  Sophocles  and  Euripides  are  attracting  much  atten- 
tion. New  translations  into  Russian  are  being  made  of 
some  of  them. 

7.  The  modernists  completely  revolutionized  the  Rus- 
sian language  and  the  Russian  poetic  forms.  Compared 
with  the  language  of  Balmont  or  Block,  the  language  of 
Nekrasov  and  Nadson  appears  almost  primitive.  Com- 
pared with  the  prose  of  Sologub,  Turgenev's  writings 
seem  antiquated.  It  gives  the  impression  that  the  new 
school  has  recast  the  entire  material  of  the  Russian  lan- 
guage, remodeled  every  tool  of  it,  reforged  every  acces- 
sory, made  it  broader  in  scope,  finer  in  quality,  more 
vigorous,  more  flexible,  and  more  saturated  with  spirit. 
Nobody  prior  to  the  modernists  had  suspected  that  Rus- 
sian contained  such  singing  possibilities,  that  it  could  be 
used  to  express  such  subtle  intimacies,  that  it  possessed 
such  nobility,  sublimity,  sincerity,  dignity.  The  Russian 
modernists  actually  worshiped  the  language.  "  I  look 
with  humble  love  at  every  letter,"  Balmont  wrote,  "  and 


1 68  THE  "  MODERNISTS  " 

every  one  looks  at  me  caressingly,  promising  to  speak  to 
me  apart  from  others."  The  result  of  all  these  efforts 
which,  in  the  nature  of  things,  could  not  escape  some 
clumsy  experimentation,  was  a  new  era  in  the  history  of 
the  Russian  written  word. 

8.  It  must  be  clear  from  the  foregoing  that  the  term 
"decadents,"  often  flung  at  the  Russian  modernists  by 
their  opponents,  could  hardly  be  applied  with  justice  to 
this  group  of  writers.  If  we  are  to  understand  under 
"  decadence  "  the  cult  of  selfish  pleasure,  the  cherishing 
of  art  for  art's  sake,  as  a  means  of  exquisite  and  delightful 
sensations;  if  we  are  to  attribute  to  "  decadence  "  the 
preaching  of  a-moralism,  the  indulgence  in  sexual  extrava- 
gances under  the  cloak  of  refinement,  the  disinclination  to 
face  the  gravest  problems  of  the  human  spirit  or  the  nega- 
tion of  the  very  existence  of  such  problems,  then,  in 
fairness  to  the  modernists,  we  cannot  name  them  "  deca- 
dents." True  it  is  that  in  the  early  period  of  this  school, 
echoes  of  pure  decadence  were  sounding  here  and  there. 
There  were  references  to  "  beauty  for  beauty's  sake,"  to  a 
Bacchant  conception  of  the  world,  to  sex  as  a  means 
of  reaching  the  deepest  depths  of  ecstasy,  to  the  philoso- 
phy of  carpe  diem,  but  all  this  was  of  a  passing  character 
and  soon  gave  way  to  the  more  earnest  aspects  of  human 
life. 

O,  Heaven,  grant  me  to  be  beautiful, 

To  descend  on  earth  from  sublime  heights, 

Radiant  and  passionless, 

And  all-embracing  as  Thou  art. 

(Merezhkovsky). 

Men  able  to  utter  such  prayers  could  hardly  be  named 
decadents,  whatever  the  difference  of  their  conceptions 
from  the  other  currents  of  thought. 


GENERAL  SURVEY  169 

Not  without  hard  struggle  did  the  modernists  gain 
recognition  in  Russia.  They  had  to  suffer  much  slander, 
much  contempt,  much  misunderstanding.  Their  manner 
was  often  ridiculed,  their  idealistic  aspirations  declared 
reactionary,  their  gropings  considered  the  pastime  of 
lunatics.  The  old  story  of  the  merciless  fight  between 
the  old  and  the  new  repeated  itself  once  more.  Forms 
and  methods  that  are  now  the  common  property  of  the 
entire  Russian  literature  were  looked  upon  as  risky  inno- 
vations unintelligible  to  normal  readers.  Poems  and 
stories  that  are  now,  after  twenty  years,  accepted  as 
classics,  were  uncompromisingly  rejected  by  critics  of  the 
old  school.  A  few  sentences  from  an  article  by  Nikolai 
Mikhaylovsky  may  serve  as  an  example.  Mikhaylovsky 
was  a  leading  critic  and  a  man  of  the  highest  standing  in 
journalism  and  public  life.  "  It  is  all  nonsense,"  he 
wrote  in  1895,  reviewing  a  book  of  the  new  school  under 
the  name  Our  Symbolists.  "  The  poems  are  sheer  non- 
sense, and  unoriginal  nonsense  at  that,  since  all  those 
'  violet  hands/  l  resounding  silences/  'hospitals  where  chil- 
dren are  wrapt  in  mourning,'  are  stolen  from  the  French; 
and  all  that  our  symbolists  are  able  to  produce  is  a  meager 
pamphlet  of  imitations  which  they  squeezed  out  of  them- 
selves and  called  it  a  book."  (Mikhaylovsky  refers  to 
a  little  book  by  Valeri  Bryusov.  In  19 13  a  collection 
of  Bryusov's  works  made  twenty-five  volumes  in  quarto.) 
Why,  then,  do  the  symbolists  make  all  these  ridiculous 
attempts?  Mikhaylovsky  asks,  and  his  answer  reads  as 
follows:  "They  are  prompted  by  a  greed  for  fame,  a 
desire  to  be  in  the  public  eye,  at  the  same  time  knowing 
that  they  are  powerless  to  achieve  it  in  an  orderly  manner. 
.  .  .  It  is  my  belief  that  if  the  gentlemen  under  discus- 
sion are  maniacs  and  lunatics,  they  are  not  genuine  ones, 


170  THE  "  MODERNISTS  " 

but  impostors.  Our  decadents  and  symbolists  mostly 
rival  Herostrates.  The  undertaking  of  their  classical 
prototype,  however,  is  too  risky  and  dangerous  for  them; 
they  would  hardly  venture  even  so  far  as  to  run  out  into 
the  street  in  Father  Adam's  costume,  however  piquant  the 
lure  of  it  may  be,  because  they  know  that  the  result 
would  be  the  utterly  unsymbolistic  police  station.  Yet 
they  passionately  desire  to  do  some  indecency  in  order  to 
attract  attention.  '  Here  we  are!  '  is  their  sole  contention. 
For  this  purpose  they  write  nonsense  which  is  artistically 
indecent  and  the  nonsensicalness  of  which  is  so  loud  that 
you  cannot  fail  to  hear  it." 

Thus  the  ages-old  misunderstandings  between  fathers 
and  sons  was  displayed  once  more.  Ten  years  later  such 
scathing  criticism  would  have  seemed  entirely  unwar- 
ranted, if  not  ridiculous. 


K.  D.  BALMONT  (1867-) 

The  leading  poet  of  the  present  generation;  the  recog- 
nized king  in  the  realm  of  lyrics.  Twenty  years  ago  Bal- 
mont  was  still  labeled  as  decadent  and  an  insane  icono- 
clast. To-day  he  is  counted  among  the  classics,  and 
many  of  his  poems  are  included  in  textbooks  for  children. 
The  influence  of  Balmont  upon  the  poetry  and  poets  of 
our  time  can  hardly  be  overestimated.  Never  since  Push- 
kin has  one  great  talent  so  completely  revolutionized  the 
contents,  the  tone,  the  language,  the  spirit  of  poetry,  as 
does  Balmont. 

Balmont  is  the  lyrical  encyclopaedia  of  the  modern 
intellectual  man.  "  Nothing  human  is  alien  to  me  "  could 
be  put  as  a  motto  for  all  his  works.  No  human  mood, 
however  fleeting,  escapes  his  sympathetic  attention.  No 
phenomenon  in  the  wide  universe  is  too  remote  for  his 
alert  soul.  At  times  it  even  seems  that  he  is  too  diversi- 
fied; that  there  are  too  many  strings  in  his  ever  rever- 
berating, supersensitive  musical  instrument.  He  started 
with  moonlight  motives,  with  half-tones,  with  passing 
echoes  in  the  midst  of  mysterious  silence,  with  vistas 
resembling  a  winter- forest  where  every  branch  and  every 
twig  is  quaintly  carved  out  of  ice  crystals  and  reflects  a 
melancholy  sun  in  numberless  cold  sparks.  He  spoke  of 
existences  half  awake,  half  dreamy.  He  sang  of  the 
belladonna,  the  magic  of  poisonous  perfumes,  the  somber 
depths  issuing  a  strange  radiance,  the  waves  of  subdued 
emotions  in  a  state  of  mental  intoxication.  Soon,  how- 
ever, he  published  one  volume  of  poems  entitled  Let  Us 

171 


i72  THE  "  MODERNISTS  " 

Be  Like  the  Sun,  and  another  Burning  Buildings,  where 
the  cry  of  red  blood,  the  lusty  hymn  of  sunshine,  the  all- 
dominating  glory  of  fire  is  voiced  in  strong  metallic 
verses.  In  these  new  poems,  Balmont  appears  to  be  a 
heathen,  a  worshiper  of  elemental  forces,  a  friend  to  the 
savage  tribes  who  revel  in  the  sight  of  red  blood  and  in 
rushing  over  the  primitive  steppe  on  the  backs  of  their 
swift  horses.  Balmont,  however,  does  not  dwell  long  in 
those  moods.  He  soon  passes  to  other  experiences:  pain, 
suffering,  beauty,  joy  of  existence,  love  for  the  near  or 
love  for  the  remote,  passions,  hell,  demons,  the  torture  of 
thought,  hopelessness,  prison-walls,  physical  and  mental 
despair.  This  swift  passing  from  one  experience  to  an- 
other with  complete  abandon  in  each  feeling  is,  perhaps, 
the  most  characteristic  feature  of  Balmont.  He  speaks  of 
"  the  joy  of  eternal  changes."  "  I  am  the  surface  that 
breaks  the  rays,  I  am  the  playing  thunder,  I  am  the 
crystalline  brook,  I  am  for  all  and  nobody,"  he  declares 
in  one  of  his  poems.  He  admires  the  "  miracle  of  his 
flaming  thought,"  he  knows  that  "  whatever  is  in  heaven, 
and  much  more,  is  in  the  human  soul."  "  My  heart  is 
wounded  by  my  reason,"  he  confesses;  yet  soon  he  accepts 
absurdity  because  "  in  the  abysses  of  absurdity  mad 
flowers  are  living  ";  he  is  ready  to  greet  even  hell  because 
"  there  is  truth  in  suffering,"  yet  he  knows  that  suffering 
for  him  is  not  final:  "  I  have  burned  my  happiness,  yet 
I  doubted  I  might  kindle  it  with  a  stronger  flame." 

Thus  Balmont  is  the  eternal  wanderer  in  the  jungles 
of  human  thought,  feeling,  and  emotion.  There  are,  how- 
ever, a  few  points  of  concentration  in  his  poetry,  a  few 
motives  to  which  he  returns  with  renewed  fondness. 
These  are  the  witchcraft  of  poetry,  sun  and  fire,  and  eter- 
nal change. 


K.  D.  BALMONT  173 

"  Verse  is  magic  in  substance,"  he  writes  in  his  essay 
on  Poetry  as  Witchcraft.  "  Every  letter  in  it  is  magic. 
The  Word  is  a  miracle,  the  Verse  is  witchcraft.  The 
music  that  governs  the  universe  and  the  soul,  is  Verse. 
Prose  is  a  line,  and  Prose  is  a  plane,  it  has  only  two 
dimensions.  Verse  alone  has  three  dimensions.  Verse  is 
a  pyramid,  a  shaft,  a  tower.  In  the  rare  verse  of  a  rare 
poet  there  are  even  more  than  three  dimensions:  there 
are  as  many  as  there  are  in  fancy."  "  The  Universe  is 
multi-voiced  music.  The  entire  Universe  is  chiseled 
Verse." 

The  power  of  sun  and  fire  is  perhaps  the  most  favorite 
subject  of  Balmont's  lyrics.  The  sun  is  "  the  creator  of 
the  world,"  "  the  giver  of  life,"  "  the  music  of  a  beauti- 
ful tale,"  the  hot  blood  "  that  makes  the  soul  impas- 
sioned." The  fire  is  "purifying,  fateful,  beautiful,  im- 
perious, radiant,  alive."  "  O,  thou  shinest,  thou  warmest, 
thou  burnest,  thou  livest,  thou  livest!  "  In  fire  all  the 
qualities  of  poetry,  including  that  of  change,  are  com- 
bined. 

Change  for  Balmont  is  life.  "  I  live  too  quickly,"  he 
writes  in  his  notebook,  "  and  I  know  nobody  who  loves 
moments  as  I  do.  I  go,  I  go,  I  go  away,  I  change,  I  suf- 
fer changes.  I  give  myself  to  the  moment,  and  over  and 
over  again  it  opens  before  me  new  fields.  And  new 
flowers  are  blossoming  before  me  forever." 

"  I  give  myself  to  the  Universal,  and  the  Universe  in- 
vades me.  Stars,  and  valleys,  and  mountains  are  near 
to  me.  Beasts  and  heroes  are  near  to  me.  The  beautiful 
and  the  unbeautiful  are  near  to  me.  I  speak  to  a  friend, 
and  at  the  same  time  I  am  far  away  from  him,  beyond 
the  barrier  of  centuries,  somewhere  in  ancient  Rome, 
somewhere  in  eternal  India,  somewhere  in  a  country  whose 


174  THE  "  MODERNISTS  " 

name  is  Maya.  I  speak  to  a  foe,  and  at  the  same  time  I 
secretly  love  him  though  I  may  say  the  most  cruel  words. 
...  I  know  full  freedom.  Immensity  can  shut  itself 
in  a  small  space.  A  grain  of  sand  can  become  a  system 
of  the  astral  world.  Feeble  hands  will  erect  immense 
edifices  in  the  name  of  Beauty.  Cities  will  perish,  for- 
ests will  burn  down,  and  where  they  spread  their  noise 
or  silence  there  will  be  new  whispers  and  new  rustling, 
life  eternal. 

"  I  know  there  are  two  gods:  the  god  of  rest,  and  the 
god  of  motion.  I  love  both  of  them,  yet  I  do  not  linger 
with  the  former.  I  have  paid  my  tribute  to  him.  Let 
it  be.  I  see  the  quick  glance  of  sparkling  eyes.  I  hear 
the  hiss  of  the  wind.  I  hear  the  singing  of  strings; 
hammers  near  the  furnace;  the  rolling  of  the  world-music. 
I  am  giving  myself  to  the  Universal.  I  am  awed.  I  am 
full  of  joy.  The  Universe  has  invaded  me.  Good-bye, 
my  Yesterday.    Onward  to  unknown  To-morrow." 

Balmont  uses  all  the  devices  of  modern  art;  schematiza- 
tion;  symbolization;  impressionism.  His  rhythms  are 
rich  in  variety,  in  time,  in  timbre,  in  color.  His  language 
represents  all  shadings  from  the  very  powerful  to  the 
mellow,  blending  echoes  of  distant  faint  music. 

Balmont  is  an  indefatigable  translator.  He  knows  all 
the  European  languages.  He  translated  all  the  works  of 
Shelley,  most  of  Walt  Whitman's  Leaves  of  Grass,  nearly 
all  the  works  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe,  many  dramas  of  Ibsen, 
of  the  Polish  poet  Slowacki,  the  poems  of  Calderon,  a 
number  of  legends  from  the  Sanscrit,  etc.  He  has  also 
written  a  book  of  poems  for  children  and  many  short 
stories. 

"  Balmont 's  poetry  is  characterized  by  his  desire  to  divest 
himself  of  time  and  space,  to  move  entirely  into  the  kingdom 


K.  D.  BALMONT  175 

of  dreams.  People  and  reality  interest  him  very  little.  He 
sings  primarily  of  sky,  stars,  sun,  infiniteness,  fleetingness, 
silence,  lucidity,  darkness,  chaos,  eternity,  elevation,  spheres 
*  beyond  the  limits  of  the  limited/  All  these  abstract  ideas 
are  living  realities  to  Balmont,  and  in  this  respect  he  is,  after 
Tyutchev,  the  most  intimate  of  Russian  pantheistic  poets. 
The  real,  living  nature,  however,  such  as  trees,  grass,  azure, 
gushing  of  waters,  is  hardly  felt  by  him,  and  he  does  not  even 
attempt  to  picture  such  things.  He  is  concerned  with  the  ab- 
stract substance  of  nature  as  a  whole.  He  is  almost  deprived 
of  the  ability  to  draw  or  paint;  his  landscapes  are  indefinite, 
his  flowers  are  only  '  bashful/  his  ocean  is  '  powerful/  his  wind 
is  •  reckless,  unaccountable/  etc.  He  writes  entirely  in  epi- 
thets, in  abstract  definitions,  and  projects  his  own  sensations 
into  inanimate  nature.  Thus  we  have  before  us  typical  sym- 
bolic poetry,  poetry  of  hazy  moods  and  misty  contours,  poetry 
of  reflection,  where  the  living,  direct  impression  gives  way 
before  the  synthesis,  the  philosophical  inquiry  into  the  founda- 
tions of  the  life  of  the  universe.  Balmont  thinks  of  himself  as 
a  poet  of  the  elements.  Yet  he  is  much  nearer  to  us  than  he 
would  care  to  admit." 

S.  A.  Vengerov. 

"  A  book  of  Balmont's  enchants  the  reader,  it  makes  him 
dizzy  like  a  bouquet  of  heavy-scented  flowers.  Balmont  is  a 
creator,  a  magician,  a  veritable  vates.  His  book  intoxicates 
both  author  and  reader." 

D.  Vygodsky. 

"  Lyricism  is  the  foundation  of  Balmont's  poetry.  All  the 
ten  volumes  of  his  works  are  lyrics  only.  Drop  after  drop  and 
tear  after  tear  the  poet's  soul  is  pouring  out  in  an  unceasing, 
uniform,  though  scattered  and  many-voiced  song,  and  never 
can  express  itself.  There  are  not  enough  words,  enough  har- 
monies, it  is  impossible  to  say  all.  Balmont  is  too  full  of 
rhymes  and  rhythms,  harmonies  and  dreams." 

E.  V.  Anitchkov. 

Of  the  many  volumes  of  poems  by  Balmont,  the  fol- 
lowing are  the  most  celebrated  and  most  characteristic: 


1 76  THE  "  MODERNISTS  " 

Under  Northern  Skies.    (1894.) 
Burning  Buildings.     (1900.) 
Let  Us  Be  Like  the  Sun.    (1903.) 
Love  Only.     (1904.) 

The  general  character  of  each  volume  is  suggested  by 
the  titles. 


V.  BRYUSOV  (1873-) 

Poet,  novelist,  critic.  One  of  the  founders  of  the  modern- 
ist school  and  one  of  the  most  erudite  Russian  writers  of 
the  present  generation.  In  the  nineties,  he  attained  ques- 
tionable fame  by  his  ultra-decadent  poems  which,  as  he 
later  admitted  in  his  autobiography,  were  not  meant  seri- 
ously. In  those  poems,  he  spoke  of  "  pale  limbs,"  "  the 
cry  of  the  desire,"  "  the  whirling  inexhaustible  ardor  of 
[physical]  delights  "  as  a  means  to  reach  the  deepest 
mysteries  of  existence.  Even  among  those  ecstatic  con- 
fessions, however,  we  hear  voices  of  a  different  order. 
One  of  Bryusov's  early  poems,  written  in  1895,  begins 
with:  "  God,  relieve  our  torturous  pain!  We  are  crouch- 
ing like  beasts  in  the  caves.  We  are  prostrate  on  rough 
beds  of  stone,  we  are  choking  without  sunshine  and 
faith."  Even  in  his  early  poems,  the  visible  world  appears 
to  be  only  a  series  of  symbols  signifying  the  Real.  "  In 
the  radiance  of  earthly  reflections,  hazy  shadows  I  see 
both  by  day  and  by  night,  passing  shadows  that  are  lit 
by  a  dull  fire,"  he  wrote  in  1896.  All  this  manifested  a 
serious  turn  of  mind  and  a  meditative  nature.  Soon  it 
became  obvious  that  his  first  poems  were  a  passing  mood. 
Bryusov  is  reserved  by  nature,  he  is  cool,  he  is  passion- 
less. He  is  only  an  observer.  "  A  wizard  with  crossed 
arms,  turned  into  stone,"  he  was  characterized  by  one  of 
the  critics.  Bryusov  of  the  later  period  is  the  poet  who 
puts  the  feelings  and  gropings  of  modern  men  into  lines 
of  classical  purity  and  academic  perfection.  He  is  one 
of  the  first  to  give  poetic  descriptions  of  modern  city  life. 
Automobiles,  electric  cars,  aeroplanes,  are  not  only  men- 

177 


178  THE  "  MODERNISTS  " 

tioned  in  his  poems,  but  the  very  throbbing  of  the  heart 
of  a  modern  industrial  center  is  audible  in  many  of  his 
lines. 

"  His  poems  have  the  strange  quality  of  giving  sternness, 
nobility,  and  a  peculiar  air  of  solemnity  to  everything  they 
touch.  You  have  the  feeling  of  having  read  them  long  ago 
in  old  volumes.  It  seems  as  if  every  line  of  Bryusov's  could 
live  an  independent  life,  so  beautiful  is  it  by  itself,  so  perfect 
is  it  in  itself,  so  finished  is  it  in  every  way.  It  seems  that 
if  those  lines  were  torn  asunder,  scattered,  separated  from  each 
other,  they  would  assemble  by  themselves  and  resume  their 
former  shape. 

"  Bryusov  is  a  crystallizing  poet.  Madness,  storm,  chaos 
become  icy  and  lucid  in  his  works.  '  My  poems  are  a  magic 
vessel  of  poisons  distilled  in  silence,'  he  spoke  about  himself. 
If  you  put  into  this  vessel  the  most  ecstatic,  the  most  passion- 
ate experiences,  how  beautifully  the  process  of  purification  will 
be  completed,  and  what  a  thick,  aromatic  translucent  wine 
will  pour  forth  1  "  K.  Tchukovsky. 

As  a  novelist  Bryusov  tends  towards  the  mysterious, 
the  miraculous.  He  is  one  of  the  best  imitators  of  the 
style  of  old-time  writers.  He  has  also  written,  however, 
a  number  of  realistic  stories  depicting  modern  life.  Bryu- 
sov is  considered  one  of  the  best  Pushkinists,  and  his 
critical  essays  on  Russian  and  foreign  writers  place  him 
among  the  best  critics.  Bryusov  also  translated  many 
works  of  Paul  Verlaine,  Verhaeren,  Maeterlinck,  D'An- 
nunzio,  Oscar  Wilde,  and  others. 

i.   Stephanos.    (1906.) 

Considered  the  ripest  and  most  perfect  book  of  Bryu- 
sov's seven  volumes  of  poems. 

"Stephanos  is  a  great  book.  In  it  Bryusov  is  celebrating 
a  victory  over  the  elemental  powers  in  his  own  spirit.    In  it  he 


V.  BRYUSOV  179 

is  a  hero,  a  victor,  a  giant.  It  is  a  great  radiant  book  of  Rus- 
sian poetry  which  is  destined  to  make  an  epoch.  .  .  . 
Stephanos  is  a  book  which  carries  a  blessing.  It  knows  the 
sorcery  of  purifying  the  human  soul.  From  a  high  mountain 
you  look  over  your  life,  and  you  reconcile  yourself  to  all,  and 
forgive  all,  and  know  that  all  is  wise  and  all  is  quiet." 

K.  Tchukovsky. 

2.  The  Axis  of  the  Globe.    (1907.) 

A  book  of  short  stories  and  plays  of  a  fantastic  char- 
acter. Although  somewhat  similar  to  the  stories  of  Poe 
and  Hoffmann,  they,  nevertheless,  bear  the  stamp  of  an  in- 
dividual talent  and  possess  a  peculiar  fascination.  "  For 
each  individual,  dream-life  is  a  second  reality,"  we  read 
in  one  of  the  stories.  "  It  depends  upon  personal  in- 
clination which  of  the  two  realities  to  choose."  In  The 
Axis  of  the  Globe,  Bryusov  chose  the  reality  of  dream- 
life,  but  he  made  the  dream  real. 

3.  The  Flaming  Angel.    Novel.    (1908-1909.) 

The  work  bears  the  subtitle  "  A  story  of  the  sixteenth 
century  in  two  volumes  "  and  is  for  the  sake  of  local 
color  declared  to  be  an  exact  translation  from  an  old  Ger- 
man manuscript.  The  full  title  reads:  The  Flaming 
Angel,  or  a  true  story  of  the  Devil  who  at  various  times 
appeared  to  an  innocent  Virgin  in  the  shape  of  a  Holy 
Angel,  luring  her  to  sinful  actions;  of  the  ungodly  prac- 
tices of  magic,  alchemy,  astrology,  cabalistic  art,  and 
necromancy ;  of  the  trial  of  the  aforesaid  Virgin  under  the 
presidency  of  His  Reverence,  the  Bishop  of  Trier;  and 
also  of  meetings  and  conversations  with  the  Knight  and 
thrice  Doctor  Agrippa  of  Nettesheim,  and  Doctor  Faust, 
written  by  an  eyewitness. 

[Of  value  is  also  Bryusov's  The  Far  and  Near,  essays  on  Rus- 
sian poets  from  Tyutchev  to  our  days.    Two  volumes.] 


K.  D.  MEREZHKOVSKY  (1865-) 

Novelist,  critic,  publicist,  poet.  One  of  the  most  influen- 
tial figures  in  the  modernist  school,  yet  one  who  aroused 
much  criticism  and  disparaging  comment  because  of  the 
unusual  point  of  concentration  of  all  his  writings \  Merezh- 
kovsky  is  a  religious  mystic  who  believes  that  all  the  past 
history  of  humanity  was  only  a  preparation  for  the  com- 
ing of  the  New  Kingdom,  the  Kingdom  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 
The  First  Testament,  he  says,  was  the  religion  of  God  in 
the  World.  The  Second  Testament,  that  of  the  Son,  was 
the  religion  of  God  in  Man.  The  Third  Testament,  the 
religion  to  come,  will  be  the  religion  of  God  in  Humanity. 
"  The  Father  is  personified  in  Cosmos,  the  Son  in  Logos, 
the  Spirit,  in  one  collective  universal  Being,  God- 
Humanity.'  ' 

This  creed  of  Merezhkovsky's  makes  all  his  work 
unique.  Merezhkovsky  is  a  writer  with  a  purpose.  He 
scans  millennia  and  remote  cultures  to  detect  the  struggle 
of  the  Spirit  against  earthly  chains,  the  striving  of  hu- 
manity towards  a  new  religious  life.  "  There  is  a  strong 
bond  of  unity  between  all  these  books  notwithstanding 
their  heterogeneous,  often  contradictory  character,"  he 
writes  in  an  introduction  to  a  complete  edition  of  his 
works.  "  They  are  all  links  of  one  chain,  parts  of  one 
whole.  They  are  not  many  books  but  one  book  pub- 
lished in  several  parts  for  the  sake  of  convenience.  One 
book,  one  topic.  What  is  Christianity  for  the  modern 
man?  The  answer  to  this  question  is  the  covert  bond 
between  the  parts  of  the  whole." 

180 


K.  D.  MEREZHKOVSKY  181 

Merezhkovsky's  creed  is  both  his  strength  and  his 
weakness.  It  gives  meaning  to  his  writings;  it  elevates 
his  novels  above  the  plane  of  mere  narratives;  it  gives  his 
critical  research  a  peculiar  orientation;  it  marks  his 
essays  on  current  events  with  an  uncompromising  spiritu- 
ality. Yet,  at  the  same  time,  it  narrows,  as  it  were,  the 
range  of  his  vision,  and  quite  frequently  it  induces  him 
to  see  a  struggle  of  religious  ideas  where  this  is  hardly 
the  case.  His  hunger  for  spiritual  tragedies  prompts  him 
sometimes  to  distort  the  perspective.  And  it  is  due  less 
to  his  central  idea  and  more  to  his  skill  as  a  reviver  of 
epochs,  to  his  ingenuity  in  creating  characters  and  situa- 
tions, to  his  sincere  and  lucid  language,  to  his  sensitive 
penetration  into  the  very  essence  of  the  works  of  others, 
in  short  to  his  talent  as  a  novelist  and  critic,  that  many 
of  his  works  achieved  recognition  and  even  became 
famous. 

"  Poetry,  mysticism,  criticism,  religion,  all  this  was  trans- 
formed by  Merezhkovsky  into  an  aureole  around  some  new 
attitude  towards  religion,  a  theurgical  one,  in  which  religion, 
mysticism,  and  poetry  are  blended.  All  the  rest,  such  as  his- 
tory, culture,  science,  philosophy,  have  only  prepared  humanity 
for  the  new  life.  Now  this  life  is  approaching,  and  pure  art, 
the  historical  Church,  the  State,  science,  history,  are  being 
discarded. 

"And  what  light  is  flooding  Merezhkovsky's  message;  how 
this  light  is  being  refracted  in  the  existing  methods  of  creative 
work,  in  novels,  criticism,  religious  research!  How  it  attracts 
to  his  esthetes,  mystics,  theologians,  and  ordinary  cultured 
people!  Verily,  something  new  has  Merezhkovsky  beheld!  It 
is  incommensurable  with  the  existing  forms  of  creative  work. 
And  this  is  the  reason  why  the  tower  of  his  works,  reaching 
high  into  the  clouds,  has  no  homogeneous  foundation.  .   .  . 

"  A  strange  light  colors  the  work  of  Merezhkovsky.  It  can- 
not be  decomposed.    It  cannot  be  reconstructed  out  of  a  sum 


182  THE  "  MODERNISTS  w 

total  of  his  critical,  mystic,  and  poetic  qualities.  .  .  .  Merezh- 
kovsky  is  more  than  a  mere  poet,  a  mere  critic." 

Andrey  Byely. 

i.  Christ  and  Antichrist,  a  trilogy  consisting  of  the  fol- 
lowing historical  novels: 

Julian  the  Apostate.  (The  Death  of  the  Gods.) 
(1896.) 

Leonardo  da  Vinci.    (Gods  Resurrecting.)     (1901.) 

Peter  and  Alexis.     (1905.) 

Each  of  these  novels  deals  with  the  spiritual  aspect  of  a 
period  grave  with  consequences  for  humanity.  Their  aim 
is  to  give  the  reader  not  so  much  the  sequence  of  historic 
events  as  the  atmosphere  of  past  epochs  vibrating  with 
intellectual  and  emotional  unrest.  The  structure  of  the 
novels  is  rational.  Every  scene  and  every  detail  is  chosen 
to  illustrate  the  main  idea  of  the  author.  The  scheme  of 
the  author  is  often  all  too  evident.  Yet  each  of  the  novels 
makes  excellent  reading,  being  full  of  life  and  action. 

"  Few  possess  Merezhkovsky's  art  of  bringing  near  to  us 
the  vistas  of  the  magic  past,  of  identifying  the  hopes,  anxie- 
ties, thoughts,  and  feelings  of  the  most  distant  epochs  with 
our  own.  Merezhkovsky  knows  how  to  be  convincing.  He  has 
enough  knowledge  of  history,  archeology,  scholasticism,  ancient 
paintings,  diaries  and  other  sources  of  information,  and  he 
uses  it  very  skilfully.  His  attention  is  drawn  to  the  most 
striking  moments  in  the  history  of  the  world.  .  .  .  The  his- 
toric perspective  becomes  clear,  and  we  gain  the  impression 
that  we  are  ourselves  completing  the  slow  underground  work 
of  unseen  elemental  powers."  .    ^ 

.  A.  DOLININ. 

2.  Julian  the  Apostate  is  all  astir  with  the  clash  of  two 
worlds,  the  Hellenic  and  the  Christian.  The  former  is 
nearly  gone.    It  lives  only  in  the  memory  of  the  Roman 


K.  D.  MEREZHKOVSKY  183 

Emperor  Julian  and  the  priest  of  Dionysius,  Maxim,  as 
the  last  strain  of  a  melody  beautiful  and  joyous.  Chris- 
tianity is  the  present,  with  its  killing  of  the  flesh,  with  its 
barren  exterior,  with  its  poverty,  black  monks,  eternal 
disputes,  sternness,  punishments,  shadows  instead  of  sun- 
shine. The  central  figure  is  Julian,  torn  between  the  two 
worlds  and  yet  hoping  against  hope  that  some  day  a  resur- 
rection of  God-like  beauty  would  take  place  on  earth. 

The  novel  is  full  of  vivid  scenes  and  unusual  color. 
The  tragedy  of  the  few  survivors  of  the  Hellenic  world 
is  represented  in  strong  yet  delicate  strokes.  The  novel 
lives  a  life  of  its  own. 

3.   Leonardo  da  Vinci  deals  with  the  Renaissance  in 

Italy  when  t-hft  Hftllftnir.  world  onrp  mnrp  trinmphpH  in  tn* 

joul^of  jnan.    The  place  of  action  is  Florence.    The  per- 
sons  are   Savonarola,  JLgnngjdnJ    Moro;    Cpgarp    Rnrgfa 
Machiayelli. 

"  Under  the  surface  of  political  events,  another  current,  not 
less  stormy,  makes  itself  felt.  It  penetrates  religion,  art,  sci- 
ence, the  modes  of  every-day  life.  The  fires  of  the  Inquisition 
are  burning  ...  yet  simultaneously  new  and  perfect  works 
of  art  are  being  created  embodying  classic  subjects;  new 
statutes  are  being  erected  by  the  hands  of  such  geniuses  as 
Leonardo,  Michael  Angelo,  and  Raphael.  Black  Magic  is  still 
reigning  .  .  .  yet  here  are  made  tremendous  scientific  dis- 
coveries of  eternal  universal  value.  And  the  same  everywhere. 
All  foundations  are  shattered,  everything  is  moving,  changing. 
The  spirit  of  revival  is  rampant,  the  worship  of  life  asserts 
itself,  the  assertion  of  one's  own  personality  is  the  question  of 
the  day."  .    _ 

A.   DOLININ. 

The  figure  of  Leonardo  as  described  by  Merezhkovsky 
makes  a  lasting  impression.  If  anybody  succeeded  in 
drawing  the  picture  of  a  superman,  it  is  Merezhkovsky. 


184  THE  "  MODERNISTS  " 

The  spirit  of  the  epoch  is  given  a  very  careful,  almost 
scientific  presentation  in  the  novel. 

Peter  and  Alexis  takes  us  into  the  northern  Russian 
capital  just  erected  by  the  powerful  Russian  monarch, 
Peter  the  Great,  on  the  marshes  of  the  Gulf  of  Finland. 
Here  again  we  see  the  struggle  between  religion  and  ma- 
terialism, between  the  spiritual  aspects  of  life  and  the 
craving  for  external  achievements.  Peter  is  the  reckless, 
wilful,  stubborn  representative  of  earthly  glory.  His  son, 
Alexis,  is  thinking  of  spiritual  values.  Peter  looks  at 
the  Church  as  a  tool  to  serve  the  ends  of  the  State.  Alexis 
thinks  of  the  Church  as  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  on  earth. 
Peter  is  masterful,  merciless,  cruel  in  his  work  as  in  his 
pleasure.  Alexis  is  tender,  loving,  though  firm  in  the 
struggle  for  his  ideas.  Peter  is  the  representative  of  the 
Antichrist.    Alexis  is  the  herald  of  Christ. 

The  novel  gives  an  impressive  picture  of  Russian  life 
two  hundred  years  ago. 

4.  Tolstoi  and  Dostoyevsky.  (Life,  Work,  and  Re- 
ligion.) (1901-1902.) 
A  two-volume  critical  review  of  the  personalities  and 
creations  of  the  two  Russian  literary  giants.  Considered 
the  best  work  in  this  field.  Merezhkovsky's  analysis  is 
both  philosophic  and  artistic;  he  is  primarily  concerned 
with  the  religious  and  moral  views  of  both  writers,  yet  he 
has  a  deep  and  sympathetic  understanding  for  the  pure 
beauty  of  their  work.  Moreover,  the  scope  of  his  investi- 
gations required  an  analysis  of  the  very  methods  of  their 
artistic  work.  Thus,  the  essay,  although  fundamentally 
an  argument  in  favor  of  a  definite  thesis,  represents  the 
keenest  and  the  most  intellectual  appreciation  of  Tolstoi 
and  Dostoyevsky.    The  thesis  Merezhkovsky  intends  to 


K.  D.  MEREZHKOVSKY  185 

prove  is  that  while  Tolstoi  is  something  between  a  heathen 
and  a  Christian,  while  he  has  no  real  conception  of  the 
spiritual  aspects  of  life,  Dostoyevsky  is  the  man  who  pene- 
trated the  sancta  sanctorum  of  the  spirit.  The  thesis  is 
formulated  in  the  following  words:  "  Tolstoi  is  the  great- 
est expositor  of  the  man  who  is  neither  flesh  nor  spirit 
but  is  somewhere  between  flesh  and  spirit,  the  '  man  of 
the  soul ';  he  describes  that  side  of  the  flesh  which  faces 
the  spirit,  and  that  side  of  the  spirit  which  faces  the  flesh, 
a  mysterious  realm  where  the  struggle  between  the  Beast 
and  God  in  man  takes  place.  This  is,  let  it  be  noted,  the 
struggle  and  tragedy  of  his  own  personal  life;  he  himself 
is  primarily  a  man  of  the  soul,  neither  thoroughly  pagan, 
nor  thoroughly  Christian,  a  man  who  is  constantly  being 
reborn,  who  is  constantly  being  converted  yet  cannot 
be  reborn  and  become  converted  into  Christianity;  a  half- 
heathen,  half-Christian." 

5.   Eternal  Companions.    (1897.) 

A  book  of  essays  on  old  and  modern  European  and 
Russian  authors,  among  them  Cervantes,  Calderon,  Flau- 
bert, Ibsen,  Pushkin.  In  the  preface  Merezhkovsky  says: 
"  The  author  would  like  to  show,  behind  the  books,  the 
living  soul  of  the  writer,  that  unique  form  of  being  which 
will  never  be  repeated;  then  to  show  the  influence  of 
this  soul,  often  separated  from  us  by  ages  and  nations 
and  yet  closer  to  us  than  those  among  whom  we  live,  upon 
the  intellect,  the  will,  the  heart,  and  the  entire  inner  life 
of  a  critic  who  is  representative  of  a  certain  generation." 

Merezhkovsky  also  translated  a  number  of  classic 
tragedies  by  CEschylus,  Sophocles,  and  Euripides. 

[Of  importance  are  Merezhkovsky's  Pavel  the  First,  a  drama, 
and  Alexander  the  First,  a  novel  forming  the  first  part  of 
another  trilogy.] 


F.  SOLOGUB  (1863-) 

Poet,  novelist,  writer  of  short  stories.  One  of  the  stran- 
gest and  most  fascinating  figures  in  the  new  school. 

Sologub  is  a  dreamer,  yet  his  dreams  are  uglier  than 
real  life.  Sologub  is  a  worshiper  of  beauty,  yet  in  most 
of  his  beauty-feasts  the  odor  of  decay  is  disturbing. 
Sologub  craves  full-blooded  lusty  life,  yet  invariably  he 
sees  the  grimace  of  a  wrinkled  hag  behind  the  face  of 
youth.  Sologub  is  fiercely  longing  for  pure  love,  yet  his 
love  is  always  tormented  by  the  devil  of  lust,  and  vulgar 
hideous  sensuality  screens  from  him  the  image  of  innocent 
joy. 

Sologub  is  obsessed  by  a  multi-colored  unhealthy  imagi- 
nation which  populates  his  world  with  demons,  witches, 
and  other  sinister  shadowy  creatures.  At  the  same  time 
he  is  one  of  the  most  lucid  and  incisive  realists  with  un- 
usual skill  at  throwing  life's  actualities  into  sharp  relief. 
He  does  not  ignore  the  facts  of  political  struggle,  and  his 
sympathies  are  quite  clear  and  outspoken.  Yet  his  transi- 
tion from  realism  to  demonism  is  accomplished  without 
strain.  Sologub  does  not  need  a  conjurer;  his  little  and 
big  devils,  his  witches  and  dragons  are  always  lurking 
on  the  edge  of  his  horizon,  ready  to  overrun  the  field 
of  his  vision  and  to  embrace  with  their  impure  arms 
every  man  and  woman  they  come  across. 

Darkness,  ugliness,  monstrosity,  graveyard  reptiles,  the 
thick  poison  of  weird  pleasures,  distorted  figures,  death. 
.  .  .  And  yet,  over  it  all  and  in  spite  of  it  all,  there  is 
a  luminous  beautiful  light  shining  in  Sologub's  works. 

186 


F.  SOLOGUB  187 

One  learns  to  love  him.  One  feels  a  suffering  sympa- 
thetic soul  afflicted  with  the  madness  of  modern  sensi- 
tiveness and  cherishing  some  clear  undying  hope.  There 
is  an  innocent,  almost  childish  enthusiasm  in  Sologub,  as 
if  he  were  strangely  happy  over  the  strange  things  that 
unfold  before  his  eyes. 

It  may  be  added  that  intellectual  Russia  accepted 
Sologub  perhaps  more  readily  than  any  of  the  modernists 
outside  of  Balmont. 

"  Being  complicated,  he  is  uniform;  being  crudely  realistic, 
he  is  an  idealist;  being  tortuous,  he  is  simple;  being  intelligible, 
he  is  full  of  riddles.  He  is  pitiful  and  formidable;  he  says 
the  truth  when  he  is  jesting;  he  is  appalling  yet  strangely 
attractive;  his  democratic  sympathies  are  as  indubitable  as  his 
profound  contempt  for  all  humanity,  including  the  demos.  In 
our  literature,  there  is  no  other  figure  embodying  as  many 
riddles  and  horrors,  yet  look  at  his  portrait  and  you  see  a  re- 
spectable old  gentleman,  earnest  and  placid.  He  carries  a 
stone  on  his  bosom,  this  innocent  one;  and  so  do  his  books." 

A.  G.  Gornfeld. 

"  Sologub 's  style  is  chiseled,  at  once  subtle  and  simple.  In 
Sologub,  the  lyrical  pathos  of  Gogol  turns  into  a  pathos  of 
solemn  greatness  and  sternness.  .  .  .  From  parts  of  his  works 
we  carried  away  many  riches  into  the  treasury  of  our  letters. 
His  phrases  are  often  stalks  heavy  with  grain;  he  has  no 
empty  words:  every  word  is  magnificent  in  its  heaviness,  simple 
in  its  structural  uniformity." 

A.  Byely. 

1.   Lyrical  Poems.     (1 896-191 7.) 

Utter  loneliness  cries  out  of  these  carved  lines.  The 
subsoil  of  loneliness  breathes  a  chill  even  through  the  gay- 
est of  Sologub's  poems.  The  gaiety  in  itself  is  of  a  dismal 
kind.  "  Dreadful  is  the  enchanted  trail,  yet  it  gives  for- 
getfulness;  bitter  is  the  hemlock,  yet  it  brings  gaiety; 


188  THE  "  MODERNISTS  " 

there  is  comfort  in  the  breathing  of  dead  lips.  Bring  me, 
then,  oh  sorceress,  thy  cruel  herb,"  he  says  in  one  of  his 
poems.  The  motive  of  death  often  recurs  in  his  lyrics. 
Death  seems  to  be  a  coveted  haven.  Men  enter  the  king- 
dom of  death  as  if  it  were  a  land  of  blossoming  dreams, — 
perhaps  because  death  is  the  limit  of  abandon  in  sex. 
Yet  Sologub  often  speaks  of  "  unimpassioned  death," 
"  unimpassioned  overstepping  of  the  fateful  mark."  Solo- 
gub is  torn  by  suffering,  and  sufferings  have  a  sweetness 
for  him.  "  Fearfully  dreaming,  we  yearn  for  tortures  " 
could  be  made  a  motto  to  the  several  volumes  of  his 
poems.  Twisted  with  convulsions  of  wretchedness,  how- 
ever, he  always  aspires  to  spring,  youth,  clear  unrippled 
waters. 

Sologub 's  poems  are  endowed  with  a  peculiar  convinc- 
ing power.  Grave  and  somewhat  monotonous,  lacking 
the  brilliancy  of  Balmont  and  the  sculptural  qualities  of 
Bryusov,  they  have  a  compelling  sincerity  and  a  life  of 
their  own.  Sologub's  verse  is  delicate  and  stoutly  con- 
structed. 

2.    The  Little  Demon.    (1907.) 

A  novel  whose  hero  became  a  byword  in  Russian  litera- 
ture and  in  everyday  conversation.  The  words  "  Little 
Demon  "  hardly  convey  the  idea  of  the  title.  It  should, 
perhaps,  be  translated  as  The  Trivial  Demon,  or  The 
Mean  Little  Devil.  This  latter  creature  is  the  torment  of 
a  half-insane  Russian  official  Peredonov  who  embodies 
the  pestilential  side  of  Russian  life  under  the  autocratic 
regime.  Peredonov  sees  the  evasive  petty  devil  as  "a 
dirty,  stinking,  hideous,  and  strange  "  being;  she  is  "  mist- 
like "  and  assumes  "  many  forms,"  she  lies  in  a  petty 
vulgar  way,  and  "  laughs  squeakingly  " ;  she  wraps  life  in 


F.  SOLOGUB  189 

a  colorless  nauseating  shroud.  Never  since  The  Family 
Golovlev  did  Russian  literature  create  a  negative  type 
equal  to  Peredonov. 

"  In  the  literature  of  the  world  there  is  hardly  a  creature 
more  absurd,  more  monstrous  and  appalling,  more  unreal  in 
spite  of  his  commonness  than  this  gymnasium  teacher  of  an 
ordinary  provincial  town.  It  is  utterly  impossible  to  character- 
ize in  a  few  words  the  power  of  vulgarity  which  is  the  keynote 
of  Peredonov's  nature.  There  is  something  great  in  this  limit- 
less, all-embracing  pettiness,  there  is  something  satanical  in 
the  mire  of  his  paltry  meanness.  His  gloomy  self-satisfaction, 
his  reckless  egotism,  his  cowardly  vileness,  his  ever-suspecting 
fright,  his  unremitting  and  yet  feeble  sensuality,  his  supersti- 
tions and  cynicism  form  a  living  figure  from  the  very  begin- 
ning. The  further  you  read  the  more  you  are  overwhelmed 
by  this  curious  combination  of  shocking  impossibility  and 
artistic  convincingness." 

A.  G.  Gornfeld. 

Peredonov  is  afflicted  by  progressing  insanity,  yet  this 
is  a  kind  of  normal  insanity,  similar  to  that  of  Golovlev. 
It  only  tends  to  bring  forth  the  fundamental  qualities  of 
his  nature.  Peredonov  has  ugly  and  cruel  illusions  which 
are  the  true  reflection  of  himself. 

Contrasted  to  Peredonov  is  the  love  of  a  number  of 
young  people  in  the  same  provincial  town — Sologub's 
love,  always  tinged  with  the  restrained  lust  which  our 
author  is  so  prone  to  describe. 

3.  Witchcraft,  or  The  Legend  That  Is  Being  Created, 
(1907-1913.) 
A  novel  consisting  of  four  independent  parts.  The  first 
part  begins  with  the  following  words:  "  I  take  a  piece  of 
life,  crude  and  poor,  and  create  from  it  a  delightful  legend, 
because  I  am  a  poet.    Stagnate  in  darkness,  thou  bleak 


igo  THE  "  MODERNISTS  " 

everyday  life,  or  blaze  up  in  a  furious  conflagration, — 
over  thee,  I,  the  poet,  will  erect  the  legend  of  the  beautiful 
and  the  charming  that  I  am  creating." 

Among  the  persons  of  the  novel,  there  are  commonplace 
citizens  and  men  endowed  with  supernatural  forces.  The 
central  figure  is  a  man  whose  uncanny  scientific  achieve- 
ments make  him  omnipotent.  The  places  of  action  are  a 
provincial  Russian  town,  the  legendary  United  Islands, 
and  the  air  through  which  the  heroes  travel  in  a  scientifi- 
cally prepared  little  planet.  The  novel  has  a  peculiar 
charm, — that  of  Sologub's  enchanted  trail. 


"  In  the  rapid  succession  of  pictures  and  persons  you  begin 
early  to  experience  the  influence  of  a  cruel  enchantment  char- 
acteristic of  Sologub's  conception  of  the  world.  As  you  follow 
him,  you  notice  that  he  has  left  the  usual  well-known  road 
to  lead  you  over  some  strange  winding  paths.  You  have 
repeatedly  stumbled  over  unevennesses  and  debris.  You  look 
around  and  to  your  amazement  you  see  tombs,  half-destroyed 
monuments.  .  .  .  Yet  this  is  no  graveyard,  no!  This  is  the 
enchanted  trail  which  has  a  miraculous  power  of  creating 
illusions.  On  this  trail,  the  living  seem  to  be  ghosts,  the 
ghosts  turn  into  living  beings,  the  swift  little  devils  are  run- 
ning up  and  down;  the  mysterious  '  quiet  boys  '  wander  silently 
about,  tracing  around  you  some  weird  magic  circles.  ...  If 
the  realm  of  the  mysterious  and  problematical  in  art  does 
not  offend  your  rational  attitude  towards  the  world,  do  not 
hesitate  to  follow  the  artist  on  his  enchanted  trail." 

Vl.  Kranichfeld. 


4.   Short  Stories.     ( 1896-19 17.) 

Sologub  has  written  several  volumes  of  short  stories 
which  are  of  the  same  quality  as  the  rest  of  his  work. 
No  student  of  Sologub's  should  fail  to  acquaint  himself 
with  his  short  stories  and  sketches. 


F.  SOLOGUB  191 

5.   War  Poems.    (i9I5-) 

A  volume  of  dignified  and  simple  poems  on  subjects 
of  the  World  War.  Here  are  some  of  the  titles:  Hymn; 
Russia  Is  Love;  March;  Unity  oft  Nations;  A  Warrior  to 
His  Bride;  A  Wife  to  the  Reservist;  The  Veteran;  Wit- 
helm  II;  Victory  Be  with  You;  Belgium;  To  a  Boy 
Scout;  Trench  Fever,  etc. 

[Of  interest  are  also  Sologub's  Sweeter  than  Poison,  a  novel, 
and  his   fables   for  children  and  for  adults.] 


A.  VOLYNSKY  (PLEXER)    (1863-) 

Philosopher  and  critic.  One  of  the  founders  of  the  new 
school  in  Russian  literature.  At  one  time,  in  the  nineties, 
he  stood  in  the  midst  of  the  most  heated  battles  between 
the  old  and  the  new.  As  a  critic  of  the  monthly  Syeverny 
Vyestnik  (The  Northern  Courier)  he  bitterly  attacked 
the  former  school  of  critics,  including  Mikhaylovsky, 
primarily  for  their  inadequate  knowledge  of  philosophy. 
He  criticized  the  Russian  literature  of  the  past  period  for 
paying  much  attention  to  the  questions  of  political  and 
social  reforms.  These  questions,  in  his  opinion,  had  noth- 
ing to  do  with  art.  The  task  of  the  artist,  he  said,  was 
to  seek  for  the  metaphysical  roots  of  human  life,  for 
the  metaphysical  foundations  of  our  spiritual  values.  The 
philosophy  Volynsky  preached  was  purely  idealistic  as 
opposed  to  what  he  called  the  gross  materialism  of  the 
dominant  literary  school. 

Volynsky  was  not  recognized  by  the  majority  of  Rus- 
sian intellectuals.  His  aversion  to  the  burning  questions 
of  social  reform,  his  keen  interest  in  religion,  his  attacks 
on  venerable  masters  of  public  opinion,  gained  him  the 
notoriety  of  a  reactionary  which  was  not  true,  and  he  was 
venomously  mocked.  However,  his  influence  on  the  new 
school  was  quite  considerable,  and  the  trace  he  left  in 
Russian  thought  is  quite  unmistakable. 

1.  The  Fight  for  Idealism.    Critical  Essays.     (1900.) 

2.  The  Book  of  Great  Indignation.    Essays.    (1904.) 

3.  F.  M.  Dostoyevsky.    Essay.     (1906.) 

192 


A.  VOLYNSKY  193 

In  all  these  essays,  Volynsky  appears  as  the  champion 
of  symbolistic  art  as  opposed  to  realism  or  naturalism. 
The  symbol,  he  says,  is  a  means  of  connecting  the  outward 
concrete  phenomena  with  their  internal  meaning.  This 
meaning  reveals  itself  only  to  such  philosophers  and 
artists  who  adhere  to  the  idealistic  philosophy.  When 
we  are  imbued  with  such  a  philosophic  spirit  "  our  con- 
sciousness becomes  particularly  sensitive  to  the  processes 
which  are  taking  place  in  the  darkness  of  the  human  soul, 
it  acquires  a  penetrative  keenness  which  aids  the  unclear 
forebodings  and  moods  to  issue  forth  from  the  depths 
and  clothe  themselves  in  fresh  artistic  forms.  The  ideal- 
istic conception  appears  to  bore  the  human  psyche,  the 
complicated,  entangled,  sometimes  accidental  processes  of 
the  mind,  as  a  borer  penetrates  the  earth  allowing  the 
fresh  salubrious  waters  to  burst  forth."  Idealism  and 
symbolism  are  twin  brothers,  "  both  uniting  the  visible 
and  the  invisible  world." 

Philosophy,  i.e.,  the  idealistic  conception  of  the  world, 
is,  thus,  in  Volynsky's  opinion,  indispensable  for  the  real 
artist.  Moreover,  the  poet  and  the  philosopher  do  prac- 
tically the  same  thing, — they  reveal  the  truth,  though 
their  methods  differ.  "  Both  feel  and  grasp  the  truth 
directly,  through  the  momentary  vital  contact  of  an  elated 
soul  with  the  world,  notwithstanding  a  host  of  logical 
failures,  illusions  of  our  senses  and  predilections  of  every- 
day life."  In  this  instant  of  grasping  the  truth,  the  poet 
is  a  philosopher  and  the  philosopher  is  a  poet.  But 
whereas  the  philosopher  proves  his  truth  in  a  chain  of 
syllogisms,  the  poet  represents  it  in  a  concrete  phenome- 
non. "  His  task  is  to  show  the  indissoluble  bond 
of  unity  between  the  particular  and  the  general,  the 
finite  and  the  infinite,  the  transitory  and  the  eternal, — 


194  THE  "  MODERNISTS  " 

to  show  it  in  simple  and  clear  images  taken  from  every- 
day life." 

This  being  the  ideal  of  a  poet,  it  is  natural  for  Volynsky 
to  think  that  only  a  philosopher  can  be  a  critic.  "  Criti- 
cism must  be,  not  of  a  social,  but  of  a  philosophic  nature, 
i.e.,  it  must  be  based  on  the  solid  foundation  of  an  ideal- 
istic philosophy.  It  is  the  task  of  criticism  to  observe 
how  a  poetic  idea,  born  in  the  mysterious  depths  of  the 
human  spirit,  makes  its  way  through  the  heterogeneous 
material  of  the  authors  practical  views  and  conceptions; 
an  idea  thus  born  either  transforms  the  facts  of  external 
experience  and  puts  them  in  a  light  where  their  real  mean- 
ing can  be  apprehended,  or,  where  the  natural  talent  of 
the  writer  is  limited,  it  dissolves  under  the  influence  of 
his  psychological  peculiarities  and  false  conceptions.  Real 
criticism  must  be  competent  both  in  the  valuation  of 
poetic  ideas  which  are  always  of  an  abstract  nature,  and 
in  laying  bare  the  creative  processes  which  are  a  recipro- 
cal action  between  the  conscious  and  unconscious  forces 
of  the  artist.  Art  can  yield  its  secrets  only  to  the  philoso- 
pher who,  in  a  contemplative  ecstasy,  unites  the  finite  with 
the  infinite,  traces  the  connection  between  psychic  moods 
as  expressed  in  poetic  images  and  the  eternal  laws  of 
the  development  of  the  world." 

Volynsky's  involved  and  cumbersome  style  was  a  great 
hindrance  to  his  popularity,  yet,  aside  from  this  and  from 
his  philosophical  conceptions,  his  criticisms  struck  a  new 
note  in  the  understanding  of  the  task  of  an  artist  and  a 
critic.  Volynsky  himself  gave  good  examples.  His  criti- 
cal sketches  of  Dostoyevsky,  Tolstoi,  and  others  are 
undoubtedly  a  step  forward  in  the  history  of  Russian 
criticism.    They  are  fresh,  bold,  vivid,  and  artistic. 

[Other  books  by  Volynsky:   Russian  Critics;  Leonardo  da 
Vinci.] 


A.  BLOCK  (1880-) 

Poet.  Author  of  many  books  of  lyrical  poems.  Author 
of  many  plays.  One  of  the  leaders  of  the  modernist 
school. 

"  Block  is  the  soul  of  music,  irresistible,  charming,  tenderly 
luring.  ...  It  is  not  the  reading  alone  that  gives  us  an  idea 
of  Block:  his  poems  enter  your  soul  and  stay  there  as  a 
reminiscence  of  music,  of  an  enchanted  land.  Block's  songs 
draw  your  soul  close  to  the  altar  of  silence,  which  is  born  out 
of  a  deep,  genuine,  and  most  complete  experience  of  the 
moment. 

"  Block  has  a  refined  ear,  he  hears  the  grass  grow,  he  hears 
cthe  flight  of  angels  in  the  ether ';  Block  is  a  mystic.  Yet 
Block  hears,  not  only  the  rustling  of  angels'  wings,  but  also 
'  the  crawling  monsters  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea.'  Block,  as 
Dostoyevsky,  never  turns  his  back  on  the  ordinary,  every- 
day realities,  but  how  fantastic  these  same  realities  often  ap- 
pear both  to  Block  and  Dostoyevsky!  " 

M.  Hofman. 

"  Block  is  a  great  poet.  He  is  one  of  the  few  who  fight  for 
the  right  of  poetry  to  look,  not  only  into  the  clear,  definite 
movements  of  the  human  soul,  but  also  into  its  mysteries,  rid- 
dles, strange  twists,  and  precipices  hidden  in  its  darkest 
recesses." 

A.  IZMAILOV. 

i.   Songs  of  the  Beautiful  Lady.    (1905.) 

A  series  of  lyrical  poems  to  the  eternal  beauty  of  the 
feminine  soul  which,  to  the  poet,  is  something  holy,  re- 
calling, as  it  does,  the  Madonna  or  the  queen  of  his 
dreams. 

195 


196  THE  "  MODERNISTS  " 

"  The  sanctuary  of  eternal  beauty,  the  sanctuary  of  the  uni- 
versal feminine  soul  is  equivalent  in  Block's  eyes  to  a  religious 
sanctuary.  .  .  .  Whatever  the  feminine  figure  created  by  the 
fantasy  of  the  poet  is  called,  whether  his  Queen  or  his  Muse, 
does  not  matter.  To  Block  she  is  the  incarnation  of  all  beauty 
on  earth  and  outside  of  it.  He  cherished  a  mystic  belief  that 
some  day  he  would  meet  her  and  this  day  would  mark  the 
beginning  of  a  new  life.  Who  is  She?  He  does  not  know 
himself.  She  is  the  Unknown.  .  .  .  His  dream  of  her  is 
misty  and  hazy.  The  images  in  which  he  thinks  of  her  are 
sometimes  strange  to  the  utmost  and  capricious  to  madness. 
She  appears  and  disappears  like  a  spirit.  He  knows  nothing 
about  her,  he  knows  nothing  about  tie  hour  of  their  meeting, 
whether  it  would  be  long  or  only  a  fleeting  moment.  .  .  .  The 
shadowy  quality  of  his  pictures,  the  haziness  of  the  action,  its 
remoteness  from  all  background  of  reality,  is  one  of  the  char- 
acteristic features  of  Block's  poetry.  It  gave  occasion  to  one 
of  the  critics  to  call  him  justly  the  poet  of  the  dream-like  con- 

A.  Izmailov. 


2.   Poems  on  Russia.     (191 5.) 

There  is  nothing  shadowy  or  dream-like  about  this  col- 
lection of  poems  dealing  with  Russia  as  a  nation  and 
giving  utterance  to  the  poet's  healthy  patriotic  feelings. 
Block  sees  "  the  poverty  of  his  native  land,"  the  "  rags 
and  tatters,"  the  "  swamps  eternal,"  the  "  rusty  hillocks," 
yet  he  loves  his  country  as  part  of  himself.  He  believes 
in  Russia's  future.  Russia  fought  the  Tartars,  Russia's 
history  is  one  continuous  fight,  Russia  could  dream  of 
quiet  only  "  through  tears  and  dust,"  and  Russia  will  fight 
her  way  to  strength  and  happiness.  The  Poems  on  Russia 
are  full  of  robust  hope,  sturdy  confidence  in  the  power  of 
the  native  land,  and,  to  accompaniment  of  murmuring 
forests  and  singing  snow-storms,  they  strike  a  new  note 
in  Russian  poetry. 


V.  IVANOV  (1866-) 

One  of  the  most  erudite  Russian  poets.  Thoroughly 
familiar  with  the  history,  mythology,  literature,  and  in- 
stitutions of  ancient  Greece  and  Rome.  A  linguist  mas- 
tering, besides  the  classic  languages,  nearly  every  cultural 
European  tongue  (his  doctor's  dissertation,  written  in 
Latin,  bears  the  title,  De  societatibus  vectigalium  pub- 
licorum  populi  Roman).  His  scholarly  knowledge  of  the 
ancient  world,  of  history,  philosophy  and  religion,  he 
pours  into  his  poetry,  which  is  a  curious  blend  of  archaic 
language  and  modernist  ideas  and  emotions. 

Somebody  has  called  Ivanov  "  The  sunny  old  wizard 
with  a  soul  of  a  baby."  He  says  about  himself:  "  Poor 
and  sun-lit  do  I  wander  with  a  song;  I  bestow  my  gift 
of  brightness  on  the  world."  This  "  gift  of  brightness  " 
is  the  worship  of  Beauty. 

"  He  gave  himself  to  the  idea  of  art  so  completely  that  all 
the  rest  appears  to  him  a  mere  insignificant  appendix.  He  is 
close  to  philosophy ;  he  goes  through  the  experiences  of  ancient 
cults,  beginning  with  the  Orient,  continuing  through  the  Hel- 
lenic religion  of  Dionysius,  going  up  to  the  preaching  of  the 
Galilean;  yet  even  religion  is  conceived  by  him  as  beauty,  as 
various  shades  of  beauty.  In  some  strange  manner,  beauty  to 
him  is  always  connected  with  the  idea  of  ancient  times.  .   .   . 

"He  is  not  interested  in  passing  psychological  moods,  as 
hundreds  of  other  poets.  He  looks  everywhere  for  broad 
philosophical  generalizations.  .  .  .  He  is  interested  in  the 
mysteries  of  the  universe,  in  cosmic  phenomena,  human  con- 
ceptions and  births,  eternal  dawns,  days  and  nights,  relations 
of  luminaries  and  days,  mysterious  riddles  of  constellations. 
For  instance,  human  passion  occupies  him,  not  as  a  personal 

.197 


198  THE  "  MODERNISTS  " 

experience  of  his  or  of  any  given  individual,  but  rather  as  a 
philosophical  abstraction,  as  a  synthesis  of  feelings." 

A.  Izmailov. 

Lyrical  Poems.    ( 1903-19 17.) 

"A  guest  has  come  from  foreign  lands,  a  stranger,  full  of 
thoughts,  full  of  experiences,  full  of  wisdom.  Nobody  knows 
him,  but  somehow  everybody  begins  to  smile  at  him  as  if  he 
were  their  own,  as  if  they  had  been  looking  for  him  and  long- 
ing for  his  coming.  Joyfully  they  greet  him,  joyfully  they  call 
him  their  beloved  one,  with  happy  surprise  they  become  aware 
that  they  are  closely  connected  with  this  seemingly  elaborate 
but  at  bottom  most  simple  poet.  Everybody  feels  that  they 
had  loved  him  for  a  long  time,  that  they  had  known  him  as 
he  is:  crowned,  yet  calm  and  gentle. 

"  Ivanov's  influence  is  only  beginning  to  be  felt,  and  it  is 
hardly  possible  to  maintain  a  correct  perspective  in  appreciat- 
ing it.  Suffice  it  to  be  said  that  all  the  new  forces  that  actually 
contributed  something  valuable  in  the  field  of  poetry  in  the  last 
few  years,  ought  to  feel  themselves  obliged  to  the  creative 
genius  of  Vyatcheslav  Ivanov  and  bound  to  him  by  the  most 
intimate  bonds." 

Vl.  Pyast. 


ANDREY  BYELY  (B.  N.  BUGAYEV)  (1880-) 

Poet,  novelist,  critic,  and  theoretician  of  symbolism.  The 
most  profound  exponent  of  symbolism  in  the  present 
generation. 

Byely  has  the  rare  ability  of  living  philosophical  prob- 
lems. It  is  not  reason  alone  that  he  exercises  in  the  search 
for  the  meaning  of  life;  it  is  all  the  passions,  cravings, 
delights,  and  sufferings  of  a  talented,  imaginative,  high- 
strung,  and  truthful  nature  that  he  brings  into  his  philo- 
sophical gropings.  And  in  the  very  same  way  as  poets 
sing  their  love  for  mortals  or  their  pain  from  conflicting 
psychological  phenomena,  so  Byely  tells  about  his  at- 
tempts at  unveiling  the  mystery  of  the  universe  or  his 
clashes  with  the  Unknowable  and  Eternal. 

The  professional  philosopher  may  not  discern  anything 
new  in  Byely's  constructions.  When  Byely  was  a  very 
young  man,  a  mere  boy,  the  school  of  modernists  was  still 
indulging  in  the  worship  of  the  Ego,  in  the  art  of  the 
decadence.  He  paid  a  brief  tribute  to  this  doctrine,  but 
he  was  dissatisfied.  His  way  ever  since,  to  put  it  in 
Ivanov-Razumnik's  words,  was  "a  struggle  against  the 
1  icy  desert !  of  cosmic  loneliness,  a  continuous  impatient 
search  for  an  exit  from  the  '  wilderness  of  nonsense.'  " 
He  takes  refuge  in  religion.  He  must  have  a  living,  act- 
ing God.  Yet  the  promises  of  religion  are  far-flung.  The 
glorious  future  is  so  remote.  Andrey  Byely  then  seizes 
at  the  idea  of  the  approaching  end  of  the  world.  Christ 
is  coming,  very  soon,  he  believes  now;  the  closed  door 
is  about  to  open.    This  new  profession  of  faith,  however, 

.199 


200  THE  "  MODERNISTS  " 

is  also  of  brief  duration.  The  young  thinker  is  disap- 
pointed. The  magic  future  is  slow  to  come.  The  stormy 
years  of  1 905-1 906  find  him  in  the  power  of  a  new  faith: 
the  people;  Russia;  the  shining  horizons  opening  before  a 
religious  nation  that  arose  to  battle  for  a  new  truth.  This 
faith  is  naturally  crushed  with  the  defeat  of  the  people, 
and  his  restless  mind  turns  to  the  Kantian  philosophy, 
hoping  to  find  in  critical  reason  a  guide  through  the  tangle 
of  existence.  But  reason  is  cold;  logism  kills  metaph>sics, 
which  for  Byely  is  life  itself.  Byely  is  a  mystic  by  his 
very  nature.  Back  into  the  warm  embrace  of  mysticism 
he  falls  from  the  cool  heights  of  pure  reason,  making  a 
swift  stride  towards  theosophy  of  which  he  becomes  an 
ardent  proselyte  under  the  mastership  of  Rudolph  Steiner. 
In  each  point  of  these  wanderings,  he  is  all  enthusiasm, 
inspiration;  still  he  is  always  aware  of  the  other  gods  left 
behind,  and  he  speaks  of  them  as  a  man  would  speak 
of  his  personal  enemies  or  friends. 

These  queries  are  very  familiar  to  the  students  of 
philosophy,  and  Byely  hardly  created  anything  novel. 
What  is  valuable  in  his  gropings  is  their  artistic  expres- 
sion. His  poems,  sketches,  essays,  and  stories  are  one 
continuous  record  of  his  progress  over  the  twisted  paths 
of  philosophical  research.  And  though  to  him,  personally, 
his  experiences  may  be  of  supreme  importance,  he  is  noted 
in  Russia  more  for  his  artistic  achievements  than  for  his 
philosophical  conceptions. 

Andrey  Byely  is  the  most  refined  of  Russian  modern- 
ists. Even  Balmont  and  Bryusov  seem  heavy  compared 
with  his  aerial,  ethereal,  almost  ephemeral  ways  of  ex- 
pressing poetic  thoughts.  At  the  same  time,  he  is  full  of 
white  fire,  and  his  lines  have  the  quality  of  coined  silver. 
He  is  constantly  carried  on  a  high  tide  of  enthusiasm. 


ANDREY  BYELY  201 

Nobody  equals  him  in  using  an  abstract  language,  yet  he 
can  be  so  simple,  so  naive,  so  strangely  convincing.  Lack 
of  stability  is  one  of  his  characteristic  features.  He  is  as 
restless  in  his  style,  his  forms,  and  his  methods  as  he  is  in 
philosophy.  Sometimes  it  is  an  article  written  in  the  most 
scientific  manner,  equal  in  dryness  only  to  the  works  of 
German  scholars;  sometimes  it  is  a  half -poetic  essay  full 
of  images  and  brilliant  illustrations;  at  other  times  a 
poem  of  excellent  musical  qualities  is  produced,  to  be 
followed  by  a  gripping  literary  appreciation  of  some  do- 
mestic or  foreign  writer,  or  by  a  story  where  moral  prob- 
lems and  vast  philosophical  generalizations  are  insepa- 
rably blended*  with  such  keen  and  detailed  presentations 
of  characters  and  surroundings  as  to  make  the  old  realistic 
masters  appear  dull.  The  historian  of  literature  would 
have  to  class  all  these  productions  under  different  heads — 
if  such  classification  be  necessary  at  all.  To  Byely  they 
are  united  in  his  personality,  being  as  they  are,  the  ex- 
pressions of  one  individual  soul  pouring  itself  out  at 
various  moments  and  in  various  moods.  A  more  sedate 
author  might  have  been  more  uniform  and  rounded.  Yet 
these  qualities,  if  qualities  they  may  be  called,  are  sur- 
passed by  the  spontaneity  of  Byely's  works,  which  are 
all  flashes  of  his  soul,  sparks  of  his  burning  brain,  calls  of 
joy  at  the  sight  of  enchanted  lands,  and  mournful  chants 
around  the  urns  where  ashes  of  once  living  gods  are 
buried. 

Andrey  Byely  is  the  most  individual  of  Russian  mod- 
ernists. He  writes  for  himself  and  in  a  way  that  suits 
himself.  This  is  why  he  is  sometimes  difficult  to  follow; 
the  meaning  of  his  images  is  not  always  clear  at  first  sight. 
In  fact,  he  advises  his  readers  to  be  patient,  to  read  his 
book  several  times  (as  in  the  case  of  The  Goblet  of  Snow- 


202  THE  "  MODERNISTS  " 

Storms).  Some  of  his  theosophic  terms  will  be  under- 
stood only  by  specialists.  This  was  the  cause  of  much 
unfavorable  comment  on  the  part  of  writers  opposed  to 
the  modernist  school.  Even  the  severest  critics,  however, 
recognize  in  him  a  sparkling  talent  with  a  streak  of 
genius  and  with  an  unusual  emotional  appeal.  Byely  is 
one  of  the  few  occupying  the  very  summit  of  present-day 
Russian  literature. 

"  A  desire  to  read  mysteries  in  phenomena,  the  attempt  of 
a  sincere  mind  to  penetrate  instantly,  by  one  superhuman 
effort,  into  the  meaning  of  life, — those  characteristic  features 
of  modern  mystics,  assume  in  the  works  of  A.  Byely  a  tragic 
aspect.  There  is  much  fiery  impact  in  his  artistic  work.  He  is 
sensitive  to  hysterics;  he  must  needs  put  every  perceived 
phenomenon  into  the  most  conspicuous  place,  illuminate  it  by 
the  most  brilliant  light.  ...  He  loses  his  balance,  he  feels 
the  incommensurability  of  his  soul  with  the  universe,  and  now 
he  is  indignant  over  the  universe  that  cannot  enter  his  soul, 
now  he  is  indignant  over  his  soul  that  cannot  embrace  the 
universe.  With  all  that,  Byely  has  a  talent  of  undoubted 
quality.  He  has  the  gift  of  hearing  the  voice  of  the  masses 
and  being  understood  by  the  masses.  Look  at  his  picture  of 
provincial  life  in  The  Silver  Dove.  What  a  delicate  lacy 
fabric,  what  fine  threads  of  great  love,  poignant  bitterness,  and 
boundless  sympathy  with  the  poor  tragedies  of  a  little  world! 
Brilliant  sparks  of  irony,  a  product  of  deep  suffering,  mix 
with  genuine  pearls  of  bursting  tears."  p    ^ 

i.   Symphonies. 

The  Heroic  {Northern  Symphony).    (1902.) 
The  Second  {Dramatic  Symphony).     (1904.) 
The  Return  {Third  Symphony).    (1905.) 
The  Goblet  of  Snow-Storms  {Fourth  Symphony). 
(1908.) 
Each  of  these  volumes  is  a  collection  of  symbolic  poems 
in  prose,  philosophic  visions,  half-tales,  half-dreams,  little 


ANDREY  BYELY  203 

sketches  from  actual  life  terminating  in  imaginary  realms, 
even  polemic  articles,  pictures,  portraits,  miniatures.  The 
Symphonies  seem  to  be  the  form  best  adapted  to  the  tone 
of  Byely's  soul.  In  connection  with  them,  a  Russian 
critic  quotes  Edgar  Allan  Poe:  "  Doubting,  dreaming 
dreams  no  mortal  ever  dared  to  dream  before." 

"  A  symphony  in  artistic  prose, — what  can  be  more  daring 
than  this  undertaking!  No  critic,  however,  would  deny  the 
young  artist  a  right  to  such  daring.  The  strict  rules  of  har- 
mony, and  perhaps  even  counterpoint,  are  observed  in  rela- 
tion to  the  language.  You  can  trace  the  leading  motives  and 
the  changing  voices." 

Vl.  Pyast. 

2.    The  Silver  Dove.    Novel.    (1910.) 

The  leading  idea  is  that  Russia  is  destined  to  regenerate 
the  world  through  a  combination  of  religious  faith  and 
revolutionary  action.  An  intellectual  man,  a  student  of 
the  classic  world,  leaves  his  cultural  environments  to  mix 
with  the  plain  people  where  he  hopes  to  find  the  germs  of 
a  new  truth.  He  has  an  idea  that  the  Hellenic  feeling  of 
life  has  not  yet  vanished  under  the  cover  of  Christianity. 
He  hopes  for  a  new  era  in  humanity  brought  about  by  the 
contact  of  western  thought  with  Russian  faith.  "The 
Russians  are  people  of  the  fields,  of  the  woods;  they  do 
not  clothe  themselves  in  words,  they  do  not  gladden  the 
eye  by  the  mode  of  their  living;  their  speech  is  just 
filthy,  their  mode  of  living  is  drunken,  quarrelsome,  un- 
couthness,  hunger,  dumbness,  darkness.  .  .  .  But  look 
here:  the  wine  of  the  spirit  is  ready  on  the  table  before 
every  one.  Russia  is  that  rock  on  which  theories  are  being 
wrecked,  science  is  turned  into  dust,  and  even  life  itself 
is  burned  out.  On  the  day  when  the  West  will  be  grafted 
on  Russia,  a  world-wide  conflagration  will  enwrap  it; 


204  THE  "  MODERNISTS  " 

everything  inflammable  will  perish,  because  only  from  the 
ashes  of  death  will  arise  the  soul  of  Eden,  the  Golden 
Bird." 

The  hero  goes  down  to  the  people,  where  he  becomes 
involved  in  the  religious  sect  of  "  The  Doves,"  whose 
members,  in  the  author's  presentation,  are  endowed  with 
great  mystic  power.  They  are  plain  workingmen,  with 
very  little  education,  but  they  are  all  aflame  with  religious 
and  revolutionary  ardor.  Their  mysticism  is  black, 
crude,  but  genuine. 

The  novel  shows  signs  of  the  author's  theosophic 
beliefs. 

3.   Petersburg.    Novel.     (1913.) 

The  leading  idea:  conflict  between  the  Mongolian  world 
and  the  Russian  religious  soul.  The  Mongolian  world  is 
nihilism,  the  power  of  darkness,  the  spirit  of  death.  This 
spirit  is  incarnated  in  father  and  son,  of  whom  one  is  a 
high  Russian  bureaucrat  and  the  other  a  revolutionary 
terrorist.  The  action  is  set  against  the  background  of 
the  Russian  revolution  with  its  conspiracies,  agents  provo- 
cateurs, secret  service  men,  self-sacrifices  of  pure  idealis- 
tic souls,  and  harrowing  tragedies  for  many.  In  Byely's 
conception,  this  is  a  clash  between  the  Orient  and  real 
Russia,  between  the  general  spirit  of  destruction  and 
Christ.  It  is  a  forecast  of  the  future,  an  apocalyptic 
struggle  between  the  Dragon  and  Christ  throughout  the 
universe.  In  the  novel,  Christ  wins,  sad  and  mer- 
ciful; the  tragedies  have  purified  the  souls  of  the 
sinners. 

The  novel  contains  many  allusions  to  theosophic  ex- 
periences which  only  the  initiated  would  understand. 
Still,  it  is  very  strong  and  full  of  splendid  pictures. 


ANDREY  BYELY  205 

4.  Poems.    (1904-1917.) 

There  are  many  volumes  of  Byely's  poetry,  marking 
the  stages  of  his  philosophical  and  religious  moods,  begin- 
ning with  Gold  in  Azure  and  ending  with  Urns  and  Ashes. 
In  all  of  them  Byely  appears  a  poet  of  great  sincerity 
and  charm  who  knows  the  secret  of  being  convincing  even 
when  he  treats  a  very  abstract  subject.  Sometimes, 
though,  he  becomes  a  naive  and  youthful  singer  of  things 
common  to  all  poets  of  the  world:  longings,  loneliness, 
love.  Attention  should  be  called  to  his  beautiful  poems 
of  the  exquisite  life  of  the  eighteenth  century.  It  is,  how- 
ever, the  tortures  of  a  never-satisfied  thinker  that  give 
his  lyricisms  their  special  value.  Sometimes  he  is  mock- 
ing at  himself.  Sometimes  he  is  at  war  with  all  the  powers 
of  the  spirit.  At  all  times  he  is  himself,  utterly  individual 
and  self-centered. 

5.  Symbolism.    (1910.) 

A  book  of  essays  on  the  theory  of  artistic  creative 
ability.  Byely's  views  may  be  thus  briefly  summarized: 
There  is  a  fundamental  difference  between  reason  and 
creative  ability  in  their  questioning  the  nature  of  the  exist- 
ent and  in  the  forms  in  which  they  answer  this  question. 
"  While  reason  asks,  '  What  is  life,  what  is  the  reality 
of  life?  '  creative  ability  answers  in  bold  affirmative: 
'Here  is  that  which  is  being  actually  experienced;  here 
is  life.'  "  The  forms  of  reason  are  the  ways  in  which  the 
nature  of  the  existent  is  being  defined,  i.e.,  they  are  the 
methods  of  exact  science.  The  forms  in  which  creative 
ability  affirms  life  are  the  expression  of  experiences,  the 
expression  of  the  images  lived  through. 

"  The  image  lived  through  is  a  symbol;  a  symbol  put 
into  words,  paint,  matter,  is  an  artistic  image." 


206  THE  "  MODERNISTS  " 

There  is  a  difference  between  the  image  of  reality 
and  the  image  of  art.  The  former  exists  through  the 
laws  of  nature;  the  laws  of  nature  are  part  of  my  "  I," 
the  reflecting  part  of  it,  not  the  entire  "  I."  "  Reality, 
if  I  wish  to  conceive  it,  is  turned  into  a  question  which 
I  put  to  my  reason.  Whereas  in  the  image  of  art  my 
whole  *  I '  is  given.  My  ' 1 '  is  the  actual  reality;  it  is 
the  creative  power." 

This  is,  Byely  says,  contrary  to  the  popular  conception, 
according  to  which  the  creative  work  is  only  an  emblem 
of  reality  while  the  real  reality  is  in  surrounding  nature. 
"  It  is  nothing  astonishing  that  the  imagery  of  the  artist 
which  is  not  subject  to  reason,  has  been  taken  by  many 
to  be  an  expression  of  a  creative  dream;  it  has  been 
denied  reality.  To  those,  however,  who  have  conceived 
the  real  nature  of  symbols,  the  phenomena,  including  the 
*if  are  only  a  reflection  of  another  'I'  which  is  real, 
eternal,  creative." 


Ill 


THE   RECENT   TIDE 


GENERAL  SURVEY 

The  years  between  the  middle  of  the  nineties  of  the  past 
century  and  the  revolution  of  191 7  may  be  called  the 
revolutionary  period  in  the  history  of  Russia.  It  starts 
with  an  outbreak  of  social  unrest  on  a  large  scale:  labor 
strikes  in  1896  and  subsequent  years,  political  demonstra- 
tions in  various  cities,  upheavals  of  university  students 
all  over  the  country.  In  1902,  peasant  revolts  begin  and 
spread  like  wildfire.  Then  comes  the  unfortunate  war 
with  Japan  in  1904  and  1905.  It  is  followed  by  a  tre- 
mendous revolutionary  uprising  in  1 905-1 906  which 
changed  Russia  from  an  autocratic  country  to  a  nominal 
parliamentary  monarchy.  The  revolution  is  soon  quelled; 
the  old  regime  wreaks  vengeance  on  its  opponents.  Yet 
the  new  forces  are  not  destroyed.  After  a  brief  period  of 
stupefaction,  social  movement  again  stirs  the  country. 
Strikes  follow  political  manifestations,  parliamentary 
protests  are  backed  by  growing  political  parties.  The 
masses  of  the  people,  notably  the  industrial  workers, 
awake  to  new  courage  and  new  activities  sooner  than 
the  intelligentzia.  The  world  war  culminates  in  the  great 
revolution  of  191 7,  which  totally  changed  the  face  of 
Russia. 

The  literature  of  this  period  is  a  true  reflection  of  the 
times.  In  fact,  it  is  hardly  possible  to  understand  the 
new  Russian  literature  without  an  insight  into  the  under- 
lying social  and  political  conditions. 

1.  The  peasant  is  still  a  dominant  figure  in  the  works 
of  many  writers.  This  is  Russian  literary  tradition.  Yet 
attention  is  rapidly  turning  to  the  city,  to  the  modern  in- 

209 


210  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

dustrial  center.  Veresayev,  Gorky,  Andreyev,  Kuprin, 
Artzybashev,  Yushkevitch,  and  many  others  have  little 
to  do  with  the  village.  They  either  describe  the  modern 
intellectual  confronted  with  a  multitude  of  novel  prob- 
lems, or  they  go  down  to  the  plain  people  who  are  awaken- 
ing from  ages-old  stupor.  It  is  evident  that  the  center 
of  gravity  has  moved  from  rural  Russia  into  the  large 
city.  The  nobleman's  nest  is  not  mentioned  at  all,  or 
it  is  shown  in  a  state  of  dilapidation  and  decay.  The  old 
life  is  gone.  The  patriarchal  system  has  disappeared. 
In  the  works  of  Russian  writers  we  hear  the  sound  of 
factory  whistles,  the  noise  of  locomotives,  the  clatter  of 
industrial  work.  The  Russian  writers,  as  a  rule,  do  not 
worship  at  the  shrine  of  industrialism,  yet  they  do  not 
fail  to  record  the  new  era.  Neither  do  they  close  their 
eyes  to  the  fact  that  the  poor  man  of  the  city,  the  fac- 
tory hand,  the  clerk,  the  artisan's  apprentice,  is  of  a 
quicker  intelligence,  has  more  culture,  and  is  more  sus- 
ceptible to  new  ideas  than  the  peasant.  The  unprece- 
dented movements  that  stir  the  large  cities,  the  formation 
of  secret  parties,  the  organization  of  strikes,  demonstra- 
tions and  other  forms  of  social  protest,  are  novel  subjects 
of  study  for  Russian  writers.  With  their  customary 
thoroughness,  they  scrutinize  every  detail  of  these  move- 
ments and  report  them  in  literary  works. 

2.  The  village  offers  new  and  startling  material  for  the 
study  of  the  Russian  national  character.  For  the  first 
time  in  modern  history,  the  village  has  awakened.  True, 
it  is  hardly  moved  by  ideas.  It  strikes  out  blindly.  It 
seems  to  be  following  a  primitive  impulse.  It  burns  the 
mansion  of  the  noble  landlord  and  gets  hold  of  his  grain. 
One  may  argue  the  wisdom  of  such  actions.  Yet,  what  a 
picture!     What   material   for   an   artist!     Millions   of 


GENERAL  SURVEY  211 

slaves,  patient  for  centuries,  throwing  off  their  chains, 
breathing  new  courage,  facing  terrible  dangers,  believing 
in  their  right  to  destroy  their  foes.  What  a  wealth  of 
color!  What  a  variety  of  characters!  Here  are  self- 
conscious  leaders  of  a  modern  type,  and  half-savages  who 
are  almost  inarticulate;  old  patriarchs  with  long  beards 
and  childlike  faith,  and  gay  youths  enjoying  revolt  as  a 
glorious  diversion.  In  the  roar  of  battle  sounds  the  voice 
of  an  ancient  creed  which  never  died  in  the  mind  of  the 
people,  "  The  land  is  God's  and  the  people's." 

The  agrarian  revolts  hold  the  modern  Russian  writer 
spellbound.  Here  he  has  an  occasion  to  look  into  the 
very  depths  of  the  people's  character.  Here  he  has  a 
chance  to  test  the  people's  faith.  Here  he  can  also  find 
solutions  to  the  old  controversy:  is  the  peasant  a  com- 
munist by  nature,  or  does  he  only  care  to  improve  his 
individual  life  with  no  regard  for  the  rest? 

The  landlord,  of  course,  is  a  prominent  figure  in  many 
descriptions  of  peasant  upheavals.  Some  writers  have 
sympathy  with  him.  As  a  rule,  however,  the  landlord's 
psychology,  expressed  in  fear  and  hate,  fascinated  the 
writers  much  less  than  the  psychology  of  the  peasants. 

In  descriptions  of  ordinary  village  life,  outside  of  the 
agrarian  movement,  a  new  tone  is  prevailing.  The  writ- 
ers have  before  their  eyes  the  standards  of  living  in  the 
cities.  They  compare  the  life  of  a  poor  urban  worker 
with  the  life  of  the  peasant,  and  they  are  appalled.  There 
is  no  more  reverence  in  their  writings  for  the  traditions 
and  customs  of  the  village.  They  are  indignant.  They 
are  sick  at  heart.  With  a  nauseating  feeling  do  they 
picture  the  poverty,  brutality,  degradations  of  the  peas- 
ant. All  descriptions  of  the  modern  village  are  a  con- 
tinuous cry  of  anguish. 


212  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

3.  The  conflagration  of  1 905-1 906  reaching  into  prac- 
tically every  realm  of  Russian  life  and  making  sober  peo- 
ple mad  with  passions,  hopes  and  visions,  offered  a  source 
of  material  which  will  not  be  exhausted  for  generations. 
Every  Russian  writer  had  to  write  about  the  revolution. 
There  was  no  escaping  it.  There  was  no  end  to  the  vari- 
ety of  subjects  that  pressed  themselves  irresistibly  on 
the  mind  of  the  observer.  Here  was  the  psychology  of 
revolutionary  individuals  and  the  psychology  of  the 
masses;  the  bureaucratic  official  waging  war  against  the 
people,  and  his  son  or  daughter  in  the  ranks  of  the  revo- 
lution; the  army  officer  quelling  rebellion  and  secretly 
sympathizing  with  his  victims;  the  professional  terrorist 
and  the  agent  provocateur;  the  priest  who  throws  off  his 
robe  to  serve  God  in  unity  with  the  masses,  and  the  priest 
who  organizes  the  dregs  of  the  city  to  murder  and  rob  the 
fighters  for  freedom;  the  exalted  youth  who  waits  in  a 
prison  cell  for  his  last  dawn,  and  the  mother  who  gives 
her  son  the  last  caress  before  he  is  shot.  .  .  .  The  revo- 
lution and  the  aristocracy,  the  revolution  and  the  men  of 
wealth,  the  revolution  and  the  army,  the  revolution  and 
the  factory,  the  revolution  and  the  morals,  the  revolution 
and  the  school,  the  revolution  and  the  family,  the  revo- 
lution everywhere.  A  literature  with  a  tradition  of  record- 
ing truthfully  all  social  movements,  could  not  fail  to 
respond.  If  the  nineteenth  century  literature  suffered 
from  the  monotony  of  life,  that  of  the  twentieth  century 
was  overwhelmed  by  too  much  material.  It  could  not 
digest  it  in  a  short  time.  The  descriptions  of  the  revo- 
lution are  mostly  crude  sketches,  raw  material  hardly 
turned  into  works  of  art. 

4.    The  reaction  of  the  revolutionary  period  on  the 
mind  of  intellectual  Russia  was,  perhaps,  the  most  potent 


GENERAL  SURVEY  213 

factor  in  shaping  the  literature  of  recent  times.  A  revo- 
lutionary period  takes  nothing  for  granted.  It  is  in- 
clined to  question  every  fundamental  of  society,  of 
humanity,  of  the  universe.  It  seeks  for  a  revision  of  the 
accepted  answers  as  to  the  meaning  of  life.  This  natural 
tendency  was  strengthened  by  the  peculiar  situation  of 
the  intelligentzia  in  the  revolution.  The  time  for  discus- 
sion had  passed.  The  time  for  action  had  come.  Every 
thinking  man  and  woman  had  to  decide  as  to  the  place 
they  were  going  to  take  in  the  great  struggle.  Those  who 
went  into  the  revolution  had  to  justify  their  idealistic  co- 
operation with  the  workingmen  or  the  peasants  whose 
cause  was  not  their  own  cause.  Those  who  stayed  out 
had  to  justify  their  unwillingness  to  sacrifice  their  lives 
for  mere  social  or  political  improvements.  Either  camp 
was  laboring  under  a  terrific  nervous  and  mental  strain. 
Why  suffer?  Why  give  up  my  most  precious  life,  for  a 
future  I  shall  not  share?  What,  after  all,  is  a  real  value 
in  life?  What  is  the  'meaning  of  an  ideal?  Can  there  be 
an  ideal  without  belief  in  an  eternal  moral  law?  Can 
there  be  an  eternal  moral  law  without  religion?  Is  a 
fight  for  freedom  also  a  manifestation  of  a  religious  spirit, 
or  it  is  only  a  crass  materialistic  greed  for  bread  and  but- 
ter? Have  I  a  right  to  take  somebody's  life  so  that  the 
life  of  others  might  be  improved?  From  these  questions 
there  was  a  straight  road  to  the  most  harrowing,  accursed 
problems  of  consciousness  and  existence,  matter  and 
spirit,  causality  and  moral  law,  God  and  the  world.  Lit- 
erature faithfully  recorded  all  these  queries  that  made 
the  intellectual  unhappy  in  the  midst  of  a  world  rampant 
with  shouts,  battles,  and  hopes. 

Contrary  to  tradition,  literature  works  now  in  fits  and 
starts.    Moods  are  coming  and  moods  are  going,  and  while 


214  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

they  last  every  writer  deems  it  his  duty  to  indulge  in 
them  whether  he  has  a  natural  inclination  for  such 
broodings  or  not.  The  intellectual  vogue  becomes  a 
compelling  force.  Out  of  a  welter  of  themes  and  at- 
tempts, three  important  subjects  are  worth  particular  men- 
tion: religion,  individualism,  sex.  They  occupy  the  fore- 
ground of  Russian  literature,  especially  after  the  collapse 
of  the  1 905-1 906  upheaval. 

5.  The  modernists,  or  symbolists,1  whose  artistic  work 
was,  in  a  measure,  determined  by  their  religious  concep- 
tions, are  now  becoming  more  outspoken.  They  no  more 
repudiate  social  movements.  They  are  not  against  the 
revolution.  What  they  wish  is  to  see  the  revolution  con- 
ducted on  a  religious  basis  and  for  religious  purposes. 
They  loathe  the  materialistic  spirit  which  is,  in  their 
opinion,  the  moving  force  of  the  great  struggle.  They 
would  rather  see  it  a  movement  to  free  the  soul  from  all 
fetters,  to  open  an  era  for  the  spiritual  regeneration  of 
mankind.  "  The  coming  of  Christ  "  is  a  slogan  now  often 
repeated  in  literature. 

Mystic  moods  and  religious  problems  soon  begin  to 
interest  many  of  the  writers  who  do  not  belong  to  the 
group  of  symbolists;  some  of  them  are  hardly  fit  to  dis- 
cuss such  questions  at  all  or  even  to  understand  real 
religious  emotions,  but  such  is  the  current  of  the  time 
that  nearly  every  writer  makes  his  heroes  think  and  talk 
religion.  "  Seeking  for  a  God  "  and  "  Constructing  a 
God  "  was  the  name  of  the  movement.  How  widespread 
it  became,  may  be  seen  from  the  fact  that  some  Social- 
Democrats,  notoriously  atheists  and  materialists,  began 
to  speak  of  the  necessity  to  construct  a  proletarian  revo- 
lutionary religion.    Said  Lunatcharsky,  later  Minister  of 

1  See  Chapter  II. 


GENERAL  SURVEY  215 

Education  in  Soviet-Russia:  "Socialism  as  a  doctrine 
is  the  real  religion  of  mankind.  .  .  .  Human  cooperation 
is  striving  towards  one  aim:  there  must  be  a  living  all- 
powerful  God.  We  are  those  who  construct  Him.  .  .  . 
Our  grandchildren  will  feel  as  if  they  were  the  neurons 
of  one  universal  brain,  the  inseparable  molecules  of  a 
growing  world  soul,  participants  in  the  consciousness  and 
ruling  will  of  a  beautiful  universe."    (1908.) 

The  symbolists  at  one  end  of  society,  the  Socialists  at 
the  other,  mark  the  extent  of  the  dominant  religious  mood 
which  colored  the  literature  of  the  period  after  1 905-1 906, 

6.  Another,  less  dominant  current  was  individualism. 
The  intellectual  who  discovered  that  the  revolution  was 
not  the  great  glorious  holiday  he  had  hoped  it  would  be- 
come and  that  his  role  in  it  was  not  a  leading  or  deter- 
mining one,  soon  turned  his  back  to  all  social  cooperation. 
The  preaching  of  the  ego  becomes  loud  in  certain  sections 
of  Russian  literature.  Gratification  of  individual  desires 
is  now  the  law  for  many  a  hero  of  fiction.  .  .  .  Said  the 
notorious  Sanin,  in  a  novel  of  the  same  name:  "Why 
shall  I  expose  my  l  ego  '  to  humiliation  and  death  in  order 
that  the  workingmen  of  the  thirtieth  century  may  not  be 
wanting  in  food  and  sexual  love?  .  .  .  Let  the  devil  take 
all  the  workingmen  and  all  the  non-workingmen  of  all 
the  world!"  And  further:  "  What  is  Bebel s  to  me!  .  .  . 
A  talker  talks,  another  will  talk  something  else,  and  I 
must  die  anyway,  to-day  or  to-morrow.  ...  It  seems 
to  me  that  when  you  are  dying  and  know  exactly  that  you 
are  dying,  it  will  not  even  enter  your  mind  to  think  that 
the  words  of  Bebel,  Nietzsche,  Tolstoi,  or  somebody  else 
have  any  meaning." 

This  spelled  nihilism.    Fortunately  for  Russia,  it  was 

1  Leading  German  socialist  widely  read  in  Russia. 


216  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

more  pronounced  in  literature  than  in  life,  though  it  must 
be  said  that  after  the  abortive  revolution,  hosts  of  in- 
tellectuals abandoned  what  they  called  their  former 
"  dreams,"  settled  down  and  were  concerned  with  their 
material  well-being  more  than  with  the  fate  of  their 
fatherland  or  humanity  in  general.  The  greed  for 
pleasure  was  quite  considerable  in  large  sections  of  the 
intellectual  world. 

7.  Hand  in  hand  with  these  movements  went  the  flood- 
ing of  literature  with  sex.  There  are  several  reasons  for 
this  sex  tide.  One,  purely  mechanical,  is  the  lifting  of 
the  censorship  ban  after  the  revolution.  Up  to  1905, 
the  censor  read  every  word  before  it  was  put  into  print. 
The  censor  was  rigid  in  eliminating  what  he  deemed  in- 
decent. The  abolition  of  preliminary  censorship  made  it 
easier  for  the  authors  to  describe  certain  moments  which 
they  thought  a  vital  part  of  their  stories.  On  the  other 
hand,  literature  in  the  twentieth  century  had  generally 
become  more  realistic,  more  keenly  interested  in  char- 
acteristic details;  and  it  was  natural  for  many  a  writer 
to  dwell  upon  a  certain  aspect  of  life  which  he  thought 
of  great  importance. 

There  was,  however,  something  unnatural  in  this  sud- 
den incline  of  an  entire  literature  towards  the  discus- 
sion and  description  of  sex.  The  springs  of  this  move- 
ment ought  to  be  sought  in  the  general  disorganization  of 
life;  in  the  inflamed  condition  of  popular  imagination 
after  the  heroisms,  sufferings,  and  cruelties  of  the  revolu- 
tion; in  the  relaxation  of  the  intellectual  world  after  the 
terrific  strain;  in  a  feeling  of  hopelessness  and  despair  that 
began  to  weigh  on  the  soul  of  many  a  former  fighter,  caus- 
ing epidemics  of  suicide;  in  discrepancy  between  recent 
shining  hopes  and  surrounding  inhuman  conditions.    The 


GENERAL  SURVEY  217 

mystic  trend  of  the  time  must  also  be  taken  into  account, 
as  it  was  undoubtedly  reflected  in  a  kind  of  sex  mysti- 
cism dwelt  upon  by  some  writers. 

The  sex  wave  was  of  brief  duration.  Careful  ob- 
servers agree  in  the  opinion  that  it  was  more  a  literary 
movement  than  an  adequate  presentation  of  what  was 
happening  in  life.  Literature  was  exaggerating  certain 
phenomena,  making  exceptions  almost  a  general  rule. 
Whatever  the  case  may  be,  hardly  any  writer  escaped 
the  influence  of  the  sex  vogue.  The  years  1907-1910 
may  be  rightly  called  the  years  of  sexual  aberration  in 
Russian  literature. 

Even  then,  however,  there  was  a  difference  in  the  treat- 
ment of  sex  subjects.  While  a  small  minority  drew  no 
line  of  demarcation  between  sex  and  lust,  the  overwhelm- 
ing majority  of  writers,  among  them  leading  figures  like 
Andreyev,  Sergeyev-Tzensky,  Kuprin,  and  even  Artzy- 
bashev,  approached  sex  as  a  grave  problem,  as  one  of 
the  greatest  tragedies  in  human  life,  as  one  of  the  mo- 
ments where  man's  real  self  becomes  bare.  Sex  for  those 
writers  was  a  means  of  looking  into  the  remotest  corners 
of  the  human  soul. 

8.  The  number  of  readers  in  the  twentieth  century  in- 
creased enormously.  Readers  are  now  recruited  not  only 
from  the  intelligentzia,  but  from  the  unlearned  city  popu- 
lation, from  the  more  advanced  workingmen,  even  from 
the  peasantry.  An  audience  which  a  popular  writer  is 
facing  in  recent  times  is  much  more  heterogeneous  than 
were  the  audiences  of  a  Dostoyevsky  or  Turgenev.  Con- 
sequently, it  is  easy  for  an  author  to  become  a  success 
by  catering  to  the  popular  taste  and  by  nerve-racking 
methods.  The  number  of  writers  also  increased;  the 
competition  between  them  grew.    This,  of  course,  made 


218  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

some  writers  unconsciously  seek  for  popular  favor.  On 
the  other  hand,  it  made  the  authors  more  agile,  more 
eager  to  respond  to  the  call  of  the  time,  more  concerned 
with  the  form  of  their  writings. 

9.  The  form  of  Russian  literature  underwent  tre- 
mendous changes.  Started  by  the  group  of  modernists, 
the  reform  of  language  and  style  is  spreading  over  all 
the  literary  field.  There  is  a  difference  in  the  subjects 
treated  by  the  symbolists  and  realists;  there  is  a  differ- 
ence in  moods;  but  there  is  almost  no  difference  in 
methods.  Nearly  all  Russian  literature  uses  now  a  more 
vivid,  more  refined,  more  pointed,  and  more  flexible  lan- 
guage. Nearly  all  Russian  writers  resort  to  impression- 
ism as  a  means  of  giving  a  quick  and  incisive  picture  of 
an  object.  The  slowness  of  Russian  writings  is  now  a 
thing  of  the  past.  The  authors  use  bold,  sometimes  dar- 
ing strokes;  they  go  straight  to  the  core  of  a  subject, 
eliminating  introductory  tedium.  They  are  unusually 
frank,  simple,  close  to  the  reader.  At  the  same  time, 
they  are  more  realistic  than  their  predecessors.  They 
feel  more  keenly  the  details  of  life;  they  pay  more  atten- 
tion to  material  surroundings;  they  are  more  accurate  in 
their  descriptions.  There  is  an  air  of  extraordinary  fresh- 
ness about  the  best  works  of  this  period. 

10.  If  Russian  literature  of  the  nineteenth  century 
resembled  a  stream,  that  of  the  twentieth  resembles  a 
spring  tide.  Its  waters  are  rushing,  scintillating,  spread- 
ing over  large  regions.  The  heavy  monthly  ceased  being 
the  literary  center.  Life  is  too  quick  for  a  monthly.  The 
great  respected  journals  have  not  disappeared;  they  have 
even  increased  in  number,  yet  political  discussion  now 
uses  the  pamphlet  and  the  book  as  the  most  effective 
weapon;  literature  is  resorting  to  the  almanac  which  is 


GENERAL  SURVEY  219 

quicker  and  more  flexible,  less  bound  by  traditions  and 
more  accessible  to  the  public.  Great  collections  of 
periodically  appearing  almanacs,  notably  Shipovnik 
(Wild  Rose),  Znanie  (Knowledge),  and  Zemlya  (Earth), 
become  the  leading  centers  of  literature.  Leading  in 
modern  times,  however,  has  no  more  the  meaning  at- 
tributed to  the  word  in  former  generations.  The  leading 
almanacs  give  the  newest  and  most  representative  litera- 
ture of  their  time.  Yet  there  is  no  one  writer  or  critic 
who  would  stand  out  as  the  spokesman  of  his  generation. 
There  are  innumerable  voices,  but  no  dominant  voice. 

The  critics  have  now  ceased  to  be  the  masters  of 
thought.  The  number  of  critics  has  increased  in  a  large 
proportion.  They  are  divided  according  to  schools.  The 
socialist  critic,  ordinarily  an  adherent  of  the  economic 
interpretation  of  history,  takes  an  author  to  account  for 
the  material  he  represents  and  for  his  attitude  towards  his 
figures.  This  school  of  critics  is  mainly  concerned  with 
the  contents  of  a  work;  it  searches  literature  as  to  the 
reactionary  or  progressive  ideas  it  embodies;  it  argues 
with  authors  as  to  their  interest  in  members  of  a  decaying 
class  or  in  a  civilization  doomed  to  failure.  It  uses  litera- 
ture as  a  means  of  discussing  sociological  and  political 
problems.  At  the  other  pole  are  the  mystic  critics  who 
would  see  in  literature  a  revelation  of  eternal  ideas,  an 
incarnation  of  the  mystic  essence  which  cannot  be  ex- 
pressed in  terms  of  positive  knowledge.  This  school  is 
interested  both  in  the  form  of  literary  works  and  in  their 
substance.  It  pays  much  attention  to  the  artistic  quali- 
ties of  literary  production;  it  is  eager  to  portray  in  vivid 
strokes  the  creative  personality  of  an  artist.  Yet  it  has 
slight  use  for  works  that  do  not  touch  upon  the  mystic. 

The  rest  of  the  critics  occupy  a  position  close  to  one 


220  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

or  the  other  extreme.  Most  of  them  are  doing  excellent 
work.  Russian  literature  is  being  carefully  and  lovingly 
studied.  Great  collective  works  on  the  history  of  our 
literature  appear.  Individual  treatises  devoted  to  one 
phase  of  literature  or  to  one  writer  become  more  numer- 
ous and  more  serious.  The  literary  treatise,  one  may 
say,  is  almost  entirely  a  product  of  this  period.  The 
flood  of  essays  is  enormous.  Yet  critics  are  mere  critics. 
Leadership  has  passed  into  other  hands. 

Russian  literature  resembles  a  spring  tide.  Yet  it  has 
not  become  shallow.  Russian  authors  are  now,  as  before, 
concerned  with  the  most  fundamental  problems  of  life, 
and  the  light  of  an  ideal  shines  throughout  their  writings. 

ii.  The  World  War  brought  no  deep  changes  in  Rus- 
sian literature.  Peace-loving  had  been  a  tradition  of 
Russian  writers  for  over  a  century.  The  sufferings  of  a 
nation  in  consequence  of  war  had  interested  Russian 
authors  infinitely  more  than  the  gains  or  glory  of  war. 
This  attitude  was,  in  general,  maintained  also  in  the 
course  of  the  World  War,  up  to  the  revolution  of  191 7.  A 
few  authors  went  to  the  front  as  war  correspondents.  A 
few  pictured  the  feelings  of  those  at  the  rear.  Several 
books  of  war  songs  and  war  poetry  were  published.  Still, 
with  all  the  gravity  and  vastness  of  the  world  crisis,  no 
exceptional  work  of  war  fiction  or  war  poetry  was  pro- 
duced. This  was  partly  due  to  crass  individualism  that 
still  prevailed  among  many  of  the  intellectuals,  an  indi- 
vidualism indifferent  to  social  or  national  problems.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  war  was  unpopular  among  the  more 
radical  groups  and  this  must  have  unconsciously  influ- 
enced the  writers. 

War  time,  as  a  rule,  is  not  conducive  to  deep  artistic 
work  in  the  literary  field,  and  Russia  was  no  exception. 


GENERAL  SURVEY  221 

In  1915-1917,  the  old  motives  seemed  quite  exhausted; 
impending  social  changes  were  felt  by  many,  and  litera- 
ture was  on  a  cross-road,  with  no  definite  trend  or  domi- 
nant idea. 

Then  came  the  revolution,  changing  Russia  from  its 
very  foundations.  Upon  the  outcome  of  the  present  crisis 
depends  the  future  of  Russian  culture  and  the  fate  of  its 
most  precious  flower,  Russian  literature. 


MAXIM  GORKY  (1868-) 

Gorky's  appearance  in  Russian  literature  amounted  to 
little  less  than  a  revolution.  He  hurled  himself  into  Rus- 
sian life  like  a  lusty  playboy's  laughter  into  the  midst 
of  a  dull  and  mournful  company.  He  thrust  an  abun- 
dance of  self-conscious  vitality  into  a  sad,  subdued  atmos- 
phere. It  was  a  time  when  the  social  ground  was  begin- 
ning to  vibrate  with  latent  energy.  Waves  of  crude  yet 
irresistible  strength  were  saturating  those  huge  blocks  of 
the  plain  people  who,  to  the  intelligentzia,  had  presented 
the  eternal  riddle  of  Russia.  The  plain  people  were 
rapidly  going  through  molecular  social  transformations 
wrought  with  revolution. 

In  the  field  of  literature,  the  open  outburst  of  this  new 
energy  was  Maxim  Gorky.  He  came  at  the  head  of  a 
motley  crowd  of  hungry  but  invincibly  bold  individuals, 
the  bossy aki  (tramps)  who  took  particular  delight  in 
shouting  into  the  colorless  Russian  intellectual  landscape: 
"  Here  we  are,  and  we  shall  leave  no  stone  in  your  edifice 
unturned." 

It  was  not  altogether  true  what  Gorky  told  in  his 
early  stories  and  plays.  His  characters  were  too  clever, 
too  enlightened,  too  self-conscious,  and  they  expressed 
themselves  in  such  excellent  maxims  that  the  friendly  aid 
of  the  author  was  justly  suspected.  Yet  the  obviousness 
of  it  somehow  did  not  matter.  It  was  the  tone  that 
thrilled.  It  was  the  greed  for  life  manifested  by  those 
individuals  that  caught  the  breath  of  the  intelligentzia. 
Gorky's  characters  could  not  be  pitied.    They  were  poor, 


MAXIM  GORKY  223 

they  were  outcasts,  yet  they  possessed  a  staggering 
amount  of  compressed  energy,  a  rebellious  daring,  and 
they  behaved  like  the  masters  of  life,  not  like  her  sub- 
ordinates. They  had  a  voracious  appetite  for  the  best 
things  on  earth,  and  they  were  restless. 

Thus  Gorky  of  the  first  years  was  the  herald  of  a  com- 
ing era.  Hence  the  almost  miraculous  spread  of  his 
popularity.  All  his  contemporaries  seemed  men  of  the 
past.  He  alone  was  the  man  of  the  future.  "  I  love  to 
listen  when  the  instruments  in  an  orchestra  are  being 
tuned,"  Nil  the  machinist  declares  in  one  of  Gorky's  plays. 
All  Russia  was  then  tuning  her  instruments  for  the  sym- 
phony of  the  revolution,  and  Gorky  was  the  man  that 
foretold  the  leading  motive.  Gorky  became  a  leading 
spirit  of  Russia  because  he  was  ahead  of  his  time. 

Yet  he  could  not  be  a  herald  forever.  The  revolution 
of  1905  came  and  overshadowed  all  that  human  imagina- 
tion could  foresee.  Gorky's  task  now  becomes,  not  to 
outrun  events,  but  to  keep  pace  with  life.  In  this  second 
period,  he  attempts  to  depict  the  most  significant  sides 
of  the  new  era  in  Russia:  revolutionary  labor  movement, 
the  revolutionary  agrarian  movement,  the  philosophico- 
theological  gropings  of  the  progressive  elements,  the  new 
appreciation  of  human  personality  asserting  itself  in  hard 
and  perilous  struggle.  In  all  the  works  of  this  period,  he 
throws  magnificent  figures  into  sharp  relief.  His  spirit  is 
alive  in  a  supreme  effort  to  embrace  all,  to  open  new  vistas 
in  every  direction,  to  say  the  real,  the  final  thing  unre- 
vealed  to  the  rest.  Yet  the  response  of  the  reader  is  no 
more  the  same,  not  because  Gorky  has  changed,  but  be- 
cause social  conditions  are  different  from  what  they  were. 
The  public  ceased  to  find  in  his  works  the  sign  of  new 
revelations. 


224  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

The  third  period  of  Gorky's  career  arrived  when  he 
gave  up  the  effort  to  depict  contemporary  events  and 
turned  to  his  past  for  material.  We  see  old  Russia  again, 
looked  at  from  the  summit  of  the  present  understanding. 
Gorky  endeavors  to  trace  the  path  that  leads  from  the 
shadowy  caverns  of  yesterday  to  to-day.  He  throws  into 
literature  gross  unshapely  clods  of  old  Russian  life,  un- 
canny in  its  brutality,  fiendish  in  its  savage  instincts, 
yet  full  of  indomitable  strength  and  fiercely  longing  for 
spiritual  regeneration. 

Throughout  his  works,  particularly  in  the  long  stories, 
one  motive  is  ever  recurring,  one  problem  is  always  press- 
ing to  the  foreground.  It  is  the  story  of  a  mute  soul 
that  strives  to  become  articulate;  it  is  the  story  of  in- 
nately sound  human  beings  thrown  into  primitive  environ- 
ments and  groping  their  way  upward  to  the  light.  This 
fundamental  interest  of  Gorky's,  a  direct  consequence  of 
his  own  ascension  from  the  bottom,  is,  perhaps,  his  great- 
est contribution  to  Russian  spiritual  growth. 

"  In  Gorky's  works,  the  heroes  often  preach  ideas;  they 
speak  in  the  name  of  the  author;  they  speak  all  in  the  same 
manner.  This  is  because  Gorky  is  never  satisfied  with  mere 
presentation;  he  almost  always  sees  a  definite  goal,  there  is 
always  somebody  suffering  whom  he  rushes  to  aid,  whom  he 
wishes  to  rescue  from  danger,  with  whom  he  must  share  his 
thoughts  and  feelings,  as  they  come  along.  He  is  not  satis- 
fied to  wait  for  the  natural  process  to  transform  his  thoughts 
into  artistic  images.    Gorky  has  no  patience." 

A.  Derman. 

"  Gorky  is  all  of  the  people,  he  is  elemental,  he  is  vast,  he 
is  a  continuation  of  the  people  just  as  the  people  are  a  con- 
tinuation of  Gorky.  None  in  present-day  Russian  literature 
has  more  right  to  be  called  the  writer  of  the  people.  This  not 
because  the  people  are  the  subject  of  Gorky's  artistic  work: 


MAXIM  GORKY  225 

many  have  treated  the  same  subject.  This  is  because  Gorky's 
writings  are  not  pictures  of  the  people,  but  their  self-revela- 
tion. Gorky  was  destined  to  be  a  vessel  for  the  best  thoughts 
of  the  people,  their  sorrows  and  joys,  their  strivings  and 
ascensions." 

R.  Grigoryev. 

In  the  course  of  time  between  1905  and  19 13,  the 
period  of  Gorky's  forced  absence  from  Russia,  Gorky 
became  intensely  popular  among  a  new  class  of  people, 
the  Russian  industrial  workingmen.  His  return  home 
was  enthusiastically  hailed  by  this  young  aspiring  class 
of  Russian  readers,  who  saw  in  him  the  great  luminary 
of  optimistic  humanitarianism.  One  of  the  many  work- 
ingmen's  greetings  reads:  "  We  hail  the  man  whom  neither 
cowardice  nor  selfishness  could  deter  from  the  common 
cause.  Only  a  few  voices  were  raised  for  the  assertion 
of  life  and  human  personality,  and  yours  was  the  loudest 
of  all.  Now  funereal  motives  are  being  drowned  by  the 
vigorous  voices  of  awakening  life,  and  we  are  firmly  con- 
vinced that  contact  with  the  working  people  and  the 
native  soil  will  give  a  powerful  uplift  to  your  creative 
work." 

For  the  first  period  (approximately  1 892-1904)  the 
following  works  are  the  most  outstanding: 

1.   Short  Stories  and  Sketches.    (Several  volumes.) 

In  these  productions,  Gorky  is  at  odds  with  life.  He 
hates  the  smug  existence  of  the  rich,  the  placid  spirit  of 
the  intelligentzia,  the  servility  of  the  peasant.  It  seems  to 
him  that  the  only  free  man  in  his  country,  free  in  spirit 
and  body,  is  the  bossyak  (literally,  "  the  barefooted  ") 
whom  he  decorates  with  gay  colors.  Some  day,  he  thinks, 
this  bossyak  may  become  the  master  of  life.    At  any  rate, 


226  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

he  is  superior  to  the  rest  of  society  (this  gave  occasion 
to  critics  to  discover  affinities  between  Gorky  of  the  first 
period  and  Nietzsche).  The  stories  and  sketches  are 
hardly  an  adequate  picture  of  real  life.  They  rather  ex- 
press the  yearnings  and  cravings  of  a  restless  poetic  soul. 

2.  Foma  Gordyeyev.    (1899.) 

3.  Three  of  Them.    (1900-1901.) 

Novels  expressing  the  groping  of  plain  men  for  a  solu- 
tion of  the  meaning  of  life.  Foma  in  Foma  Gordyeyev 
is  a  son  of  the  middle-class,  heir  to  a  great  fortune;  Ilya 
in  Three  of  Them  is  a  son  of  peasants  who  emigrated  into 
a  modern  industrial  center.  Both  are  thrown  into  the 
jungle  of  life  to  work  out  for  themselves  a  true  philosophy. 
Both  have  a  restless  soul,  dissatisfied  with  compromises, 
and  both  finally  perish  in  agony  under  the  lash  of  in- 
scrutable reality. 

"  Foma  is  a  bossyak  and  a  proletarian  in  spite  of  his  mil- 
lions. He  is  a  bossyak  reared  in  the  Russian  soil,  that  is  to 
say,  he  is  not  only  a  man  absolutely  unadapted  to  struggle, 
but  he  accelerates  his  own  destruction  with  a  strange  impa- 
tience and  passion.  His  destruction  lures  him  as  an  abyss  into 
which  he  looks  every  minute. 

"  Foma  is  a  mystic,  religious  nature,  thinking  in  terms  of  the 
truth  of  life  and  peace  among  men,  yet  at  the  same  time  he  is 
a  skeptic.  A  terrible  drama  of  spiritual  blindness  and  spiritual' 
impotence  takes  place.  The  hunger  for  life  and  heroism  is 
expressed  in  orgies,  the  hunger  for  space,  in  hideous  excesses; 
yearnings  turn  into  sickness,  into  a  veritable  nostalgia  for  an 
unknown  far-off  homeland  of  beauty."  Andreyevitch. 

4.  The  Philistines.    (1902.) 

A  play  depicting  the  decay  of  the  middle-class  Russian 
family.  Contrasted  with  this  decay  is  the  sturdy  work- 
ingman,  Nil. 


MAXIM  GORKY  227 

"Nil,  the  machinist,  is  enthusiastic  over  the  processes  of 
life;  he  preaches  courage  and  the  love  of  life.  His  activities 
are  directed  against  the  petty  middle-class  which  lacks  creative 
energy.  Nil  loves  to  forge ;  '  to  swing  the  hammer  '  is  for  him 
a  joy;  he  is  always  eager  to  meddle  '  in  the  very  thickest  of 
life  ' ;  he  hates  '  rotting  existence  '  and  believes  in  the  victory 
of  new  life." 

V.  L.  LVOV-ROGATCHEVSKY. 

5.  In  the  Depths  (literally:  At  the  Bottom).    (1903.) 
A  play  taking  place  in  a  lodging  house  for  the  poorest 

(night  asylum).  Gorky  gives  a  remarkable  collection  of 
creatures  that  once  were  men.  The  play  is  more  realistic 
than  his  earlier  stories.  Hardly  any  tinge  of  the  super- 
man is  given  to  those  tramps,  thieves,  ex-convicts,  and 
prostitutes.    The  picture  is  extremely  gloomy. 

In  the  second  period,  Gorky  is  enchanted  by  the  social 
forces  that  seem  to  him  to  mold  life  into  new  shapes. 
These  are  the  working-class  struggling  for  industrial 
freedom,  the  peasantry  breaking  the  chains  of  slavery, 
and  the  thinking  elements  of  the  masses  finding  in  the 
people  at  large  the  meaning  of  life.  The  major  works  of 
this  period  are: 

6.  Mother.    (1905.) 

^  A  novel  describing  the  revolutionary  labor-movemen  in 
an  industrial  suburb  and  the  changes  wrought  in  the  minds 
of  the  workingmen  through  their  adherence  to  an  ideal 
lifting  them  above  their  everyday  life. 

"  There  is  a  purpose  in  each  of  Gorky's  works,  yet  the  de- 
velopment of  his  purpose  is  seldom  mechanical:  he  nearly 
always  succeeds  in  overcoming  his  rationalism,  in  subjugating 
his  idea  to  a  living,  stirring  image.  An  example  is  Mother. 
The  story  is  rational  from  beginning  to  end.    The  task  of  the 


228  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

author  was  incredible,  enough  to  make  you  giddy.  He  wanted 
to  show  how  a  middle-aged  ignorant  woman,  beaten  all  her 
life  and  broken  into  a  dull  patience,  is  transformed  into  a 
conscious  and  active  socialist  with  a  sweeping  grasp  of  revo- 
lutionary principles.  However,  when  you  finish  reading  and 
look  back  over  those  hundreds  of  pages,  you  marvel  not  so 
much  at  the  magnitude  of  his  purpose  as  at  the  purely  artistic 
impressions  the  author  made  you  experience." 

A.  Derman.     / 

7.  Confessions.    Novel.     (1908.) 

The  story  of  a  plain  man  seeking  a  religious  solution 
for  the  problem  of  life  and  finally  making  the  people  his 
great  religious  ideal.  His  God  becomes  the  God  of  justice 
and  love,  unity  and  humaneness. 

8.  Summer.    (1909.) 

A  novel  devoted  to  the  agrarian  movement  in  the  vil- 
lages. The  story  is  full  of  sun-lit  love  for  the  common 
people  and  ends  with  "  Holiday  greetings,  thou  great  Rus- 
sian nation."  It  is  remarkable  for  its  optimism  at  a 
time  when  the  political  prospect  of  Russia  was  very  dark. 

In  the  third  period,  Gorky's  writings  are  stripped  of 
their  romantic  adornments.  Gorky  goes  back  to  life  as  it 
is,  yet  now  he  no  more  rejects  it  as  in  his  first  period. 
He  finds  beauty  even  among  the  poorest  in  spirit.  He 
is  more  calm,  reposed.  A  delicate  tenderness  permeates 
his  realistic  colorful  descriptions.  The  most  notable  of 
this  period  are: 

9.  Matvey  Kozhemyakin.    Novel.    (1911.) 

10.  My  Childhood.    Reminiscences.     (1913.) 

"  Gorky  describes  the  savagery,  ignorance,  drunkenness, 
rakishness,  stupidity,  recklessness,  poverty,  and  dirt  of  the 


MAXIM  GORKY  229 

gray  masses  of  the  people.  In  a  word,  he  tells  a  story  of  an 
immense  sea  of  evil  flooding  our  grievous  and  gloomy  life. 
However,  there  is  only  a  deepened  melancholy,  a  sadness,  a 
subdued  longing  [in  these  works].  Above  this  feeling  rises 
his  sincere  faith  in  the  triumph  of  good,  the  joy  of  living." 

M.  Korolitzky. 

[Among  the  rest  of  Gorky's  works  attention  is  called  to  his 
Town  Okurov;  Italian  Tales;  Over  Russia;  Children  of  the 
Sun;  The  Life  of  a  Superdous  Man.] 


LEONID  ANDREYEV  (1871-1919) 

"  I  have  traversed  many  towns  and  lands,  and  nowhere 
have  I  seen  a  free  man,"  says  one  of  Andreyev's  heroes. 
"  I  have  seen  only  slaves.  I  have  seen  cages  in  which 
they  live,  beds  on  which  they  are  born  and  die;  I  have 
seen  their  hatred  and  love,  their  sin  and  virtue.  And  their 
pleasures  have  I  seen:  miserable  attempts  at  reviving 
ancient  joy.  And  whatever  I  saw  bore  the  stamp  of 
stupidity  and  madness.  .  .  .  Amid  the  flowers  of  a  beau- 
tiful earth  they  have  erected  a  madhouse." 

These  words  could  be  made  a  motto  to  most  of  An- 
dreyev's works.  Andreyev  questions  the  fundamentals  of 
our  life.  Things  taken  by  mankind  for  granted  he  sub- 
jects to  a  sharp  scrutiny  only  to  arrive  at  the  conclusion 
that  there  is  madness  and  horror  everywhere.  Human 
existence,  human  thought,  human  actions,  and  valuations 
strike  him  as  full  of  exasperating  problems  that  allow  no 
rest  and  no  happiness  in  the  inquisitive  mind.  The  sim- 
plest of  these  problems  is,  perhaps,  the  problem  of  the 
subconscious.  Man  never  knows  what  he  is  apt  to  do  in  a 
few  minutes.  "Thousands  of  lives  are  present  in  my 
soul,"  Andreyev  says  in  one  of  his  essays,  "  lives  that 
preceded  my  birth.  Every  life  speaks  its  own  language." 
Can  there  be  any  prospect  of  freedom  for  the  individual? 

Andreyev  creates  one  work  after  the  other  to  em- 
phasize this  lack  of  freedom.  Man's  passions  are  the 
abysmal  brute  that  is  ever  lurking  in  the  depths  of  the 
human  soul.  Man's  thought  is  a  treacherous  weapon 
that  turns  against  its  master  in  the  most  crucial  moment. 

230 


LEONID  ANDREYEV  231 

Man  is  limited  to  his  individual  consciousness,  ever  un- 
able to  cast  a  glance  under  the  skull  of  another  human 
being.  Man  thinks  he  is  embracing  the  universe  while 
he  himself  is  only  a  slave  to  laws  of  thought  and  existence 
that  not  he  has  created  and  not  he  is  at  liberty  to  alter. 

Walls  and  walls  are  surrounding  Andreyev  on  every 
side:  The  wall  of  the  laws  of  nature  that  make  every 
human  being  a  prisoner  in  the  world,  and  the  wall  of  our 
psychology  that  make  a  man  a  prisoner  within  his  own 
brain;  the  wall  of  blind  fate  determining  the  lot  of  man 
with  implacable  cruelty,  and  the  wall  of  the  unknown 
that  breathes  dread  into  human  souls;  the  wall  of  modern 
culture  crushing  every  trait  of  creative  individuality, 
and  the  wall  of  human  institutions  with  their  misery, 
hatred,  oppression  of  the  weakest,  and  streams  of  inno- 
cent blood;  the  wall  of  age  which  nobody  can  fail  to  ap- 
proach, and  the  wall  of  all  walls — death  looming  up  at 
the  end  of  men  and  worlds.  Against  all  these  walls,  An- 
dreyev's thought  beats  with  furious  passion.  He  finds  no 
solution.  He  accepts  no  consolation.  Religion  is  no 
answer  to  him.  God,  if  there  is  a  God,  is  the  greatest  of 
all  riddles  that  make  man's  mind  despair  and  man's  heart 
ache  with  indignation;  love  leads  nowhere,  since  men  that 
burnt  themselves  out  in  a  great  sacrifice  of  love  have 
not  improved  the  world;  good  in  general  is  of  no  avail, 
since  it  is  a  shame  to  flaunt  one's  goodness  in  a  world 
steeped  in  sin,  wretchedness,  and  evil.  Only  a  miracle 
could  break  the  numerous  walls  that  surround  our  exist- 
ence, but  he  who  puts  his  faith  in  a  miracle  is  finally 
deceived  and  betrayed. 

Thus  Andreyev  is  engaged  in  a  cruel  feud  with  life,  with 
destiny,  with  God,  with  reason.  He  challenges  his  mas- 
ters, the  masters  of  all  our  fortunes,  in  the  words  of 


232  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

Anathema:  "  I  am  tired  of  searching.  I  am  tired  of  liv- 
ing and  fruitless  suffering  in  my  vain  pursuit  of  the  thing 
that  ever  escapes  me.  Give  me  death,  but  do  not  torture 
me  with  not  knowing."  Yet  the  only  answer  he  hears 
from  "  Him  Who  Guards  the  Entrance  "  is:  "  My  face  is 
uncovered,  yet  you  do  not  see  it.  My  speech  is  loud,  yet 
you  do  not  hear  it.  My  commands  are  clear,  yet  you  do 
not  know  them.  And  you  shall  never  see  and  never  hear 
and  never  understand."  He  Who  Guards  the  Entrance  is 
speaking  "  in  the  language  of  silence,"  and  loud  cries  out 
Andreyev,  the  man  with  the  wounded  intellect,  in  a  con- 
temptuous protest  against  a  reply  that  answers  nothing. 
Loudly  rings  that  cry  of  despair  through  all  Andreyev's 
writings. 

Andreyev  is  the  spokesman  of  the  Russian  intellectual 
who  was  awakened  by  modern  progress  from  the  slug- 
gishness of  a  patriarchal  system  to  the  realization  of  the 
complexity  of  life.  The  Russian  intellectual  was  sud- 
denly put  before  enormous  problems.  The  alternative  of 
either  heroic  sacrifice  for  a  common  cause  or  cowardly 
abstinence  from  life's  constructive  work  loomed  up  be- 
fore every  self-conscious  individual.  Life  itself  was 
undergoing  catastrophic  changes.  Everything  was  shak- 
ing, yielding,  giving  way  to  new  forms.  It  looked  as  if  a 
powerful  hand  had  tossed  all  structures  asunder,  reveal- 
ing the  very  foundations.  Russian  intellect  was  feverishly 
scrutinizing  life,  revaluing  the  most  harrowing  problems. 
It  was  in  the  nature  of  Russian  surroundings  to  tinge  all 
these  gropings  with  the  dark  colors  of  sadness,  loneliness, 
pessimism.  Andreyev  was  the  writer  destined  to  embody 
this  spirit  of  intellectual  unrest  in  striking  artistic  pic- 
tures. When  he  wrote  his  great  question  marks,  he 
brought  together  strong  yet  unclear  currents  of  thought 


LEONID  ANDREYEV  233 

and  emotion  diffused  through  thinking  Russia,  and  out  of 
them  created  vivid  images.    The  response  was  vast. 

Andreyev  is  never  contented  to  write  a  story  for  the 
story's  sake.  Every  story  or  play  of  his  represents  a 
problem.  The  scheme  is  somewhat  like  this:  Granted  a 
man  is  put  in  certain  conditions  and  made  to  suffer  certain 
experiences,  what  would  be  the  spiritual  or  moral  effect? 
The  surroundings  and  conditions  thus  become  of  sub- 
ordinate importance;  the  center  of  gravity  is  put  into  the 
spiritual  or  moral  reaction.  It  is,  therefore,  natural  for 
Andreyev  to  depart  often  from  the  road  of  realism,  to 
substitute  abstractions  for  living  human  beings,  to  trans- 
fer the  place  of  his  tragedies  into  imaginary  realms.  An- 
dreyev is  one  of  the  first  to  introduce  schematization  into 
Russian  literature.  Yet  such  is  the  power  of  his  talent 
that  even  the  abstract  creations  of  his  mind  are  glowing 
with  intense  life,  and  the  excruciating  pain  of  a  King  Hun- 
ger or  a  Eleazar  becomes  our  own. 

"  Andreyev  has  no  types.  He  has  masks  through  which  the 
author  himself  is  speaking  to  you.  Not  one  image  created  by 
Andreyev  will  enter  Russian  literature  to  stay  in  it  as  a  type. 
Leonid  Andreyev  himself  will  stay  in  it  with  all  his  masks,  with 
his  Punch  and  Judy  theater  in  which  all  the  time  is  heard  the 
nervous,  alarmed,  and  somewhat  bawling  voice  of  the  author,  a 
man  exalted,  stirred,  and  restless. 

"When  the  sea  is  covered  with  a  ripple  it  cannot  reflect 
things.  The  soul  of  a  modern  man,  nervous  and  agitated,  is 
not  fitted  to  objective  contemplation,  to  the  construction  of 
characters  and  bringing  them  to  life.  It  can  reflect  only  it- 
self, clamor  about  itself,  think  its  own  thought,  suffer  its  own 
tortures.  That  is  why  Andreyev  is  inclined  to  fantastic 
images,  to  stylization.  That  is  why  he  makes  a  number  of 
masks  covering  the  same  contents  and  without  individual 
traits." 

K.  I.  Arabazhin. 


234  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

"  There  is  a  spiral-like  impetuosity  and  the  glow  of  a  pas- 
sionate temperament  in  the  combination  of  Andreyev's  words 
and  phrases.  His  words  harass,  beat,  lash  your  face,  they 
importunately  intrude  into  your  soul,  they  moan  and  clang, 
they  ring  the  great  alarm  bells,  they  strike  your  heart  like 
claps  of  thunder,  they  rankle  in  your  soul,  sometimes  they 
yelp  and  howl  like  hungry  dogs  begging  for  mercy  and  atten- 
tion. Andreyev  loves  contrasts.  His  contours  are  sharp. 
Everything  is  thrust  on  the  canvas  with  crude  and  bold  strokes, 
sometimes  producing  a  sensational  effect." 

K.  I.  Arabazhin. 

And  yet,  there  is  sometimes  a  beautiful  tenderness,  an 
almost  bashful  love  of  life  and  youth  in  many  of  An- 
dreyev's works.  In  spite  of  his  heralded  objectivism, 
there  is  a  strain  of  lyricism  vibrating  through  his  thun- 
derous questionings,  at  times  rising  to  heights  of  power- 
ful harmony  and  drowning  all  other  sounds.  It  is  this 
personal,  intimately  human  quality  of  his  writings  that 
lends  them  a  peculiar  fascination. 

Andreyev  is  one  of  the  most  prolific  and  versatile  Rus- 
sian story  writers  and  dramatists.  Out  of  an  abundance 
of  a  twenty  years'  harvest  we  shall  select  a  few  most 
characteristic  specimens: 

i.    The  Wall.    A  story.     (1901.) 

The  Great  Wall  stands  between  the  lepers  and  the  un- 
known which  lures  them  with  irresistible  force.  In  vain 
are  their  efforts  to  crush  it  or  climb  over  it.  It  is  im- 
placable and  eternally  silent. 

2.  The  Abyss.    A  story.    (1902.) 

3.  In  the  Fog.    A  story.    (1902.) 

Both  stories  deal  with  the  brute  force  of  sex  passion 
overmastering  otherwise  pure  and  innocent  human  beings. 


LEONID  ANDREYEV  235 

The  Abyss  was  a  subject  of  nation-wide  discussion  for  a 
number  of  months. 

4.  The  Thought.    Novelette.    (1902.) 

5.  The  Black  Masks.    A  play.    (1908.) 

Both  works  deal  with  the  limitations  of  the  human 
mind.  The  hero  of  The  Thought  was  betrayed  by  reason, 
which  he  had  considered  his  most  faithful  slave.  The 
hero  of  The  Black  Masks  was  defeated  by  the  multitude 
of  dark  forces  hidden  within  his  own  personality. 

"  In  The  Black  Masks,  Andreyev  cruelly  asserted  that  we 
cannot  escape  the  horror  and  darkness  spread  around  us;  that 
even  if  we  take  refuge  in  the  '  enchanted  castles  of  our  souls ' 
illuminating  them  with  the  brightest  lights,  the  black  masks 
would  come  and  bring  along  the  boundless  horror  and  cold- 
ness of  life,  and  extinguish  the  lights." 

L.  S.  Kozlovsky. 

6.  The  Life  of  Vassily  Fiveysky.    Novelette.     (1904.) 
One  of  the  most  powerful  of  Andreyev's  works.     A 

man  whom  fate  unjustly  persecuted  all  his  life,  a  second 
Job,  begins  to  question  the  justice  of  God.  He  is  a  priest, 
a  believer,  and  his  rebellion  against  the  order  of  things 
makes  him  finally  believe  that  he  is  chosen  to  perform 
miracles.  He  dies  in  his  superhuman  effort  to  attain  the 
unattainable.  The  story  is  carved  with  a  masterful  hand 
out  of  the  very  substance  of  emotion. 

7.  So  It  Was.    Novelette.    (1906.) 

8.  The  Governor.    Novelette.    (1906.) 

The  heroes  of  both  stories,  the  king  in  the  first,  the 
Russian  governor  in  the  second,  are  persecuted  and  finally 
destroyed  by  the  force  of  blind  popular  passion.  In  both 
stories,  the  revolutionary  movement  assumes  the  role  of 


236  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

Fate  for  individuals  put  in  a  position  to  arouse  the  peo- 
ple's hatred. 

9.  Savva.    A  play.     (1906.) 

Savva  is  an  anarchist  disgusted  with  civilization.  He 
says:  "  We  have  got  to  destroy  everything,  the  old  houses, 
the  Universities,  science,  the  old  literature,  the  old  art! 
.  .  .  What  I  wish  is  to  free  the  earth,  to  free  Thought. 
...  To  break  the  prison  in  which  ideas  are  hidden 
away,  to  give  them  wings,  to  open  a  new,  great,  unknown 
world.  In  fire  and  thunder,  I  wish  to  overstep  the  bound- 
ary of  the  universe." 

Sawa  is  voicing  Andreyev's  hazy  belief  in  some  un- 
known world  which  may  come  as  a  result  of  the  free 
creative  energy  of  unshackled  humanity.  This  belief, 
however,  is  never  as  strong  in  Andreyev  as  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  chains  imposed  upon  human  life  and  soul. 
The  climax  of  Savva  is  reached  when  the  anarchist's 
rationalism  clashes  against  the  childlike  faith  of  plain 
people.  A  miracle  happens,  yet  it  is  not  due  to  super- 
natural intervention.  It  is  the  miracle  of  the  human 
mind  which  creates  gods  and  makes  them  a  living  reality. 

10.  Judas  Iscariot  and  Others.    Novelette.     (1907.) 

"  In  Andreyev's  presentation,  the  ultimate  and  most  horrify- 
ing sacrifice  brought  on  the  altar  of  love  was  not  Christ's  but 
Judas 's:  Christ  let  men  crucify  His  body,  Judas  crucified  his 
soul;  Christ  was  beaten  and  spit  upon  when  led  to  His  execu- 
tion; Judas's  soul  is  forever  crushed  and  downtrodden.  With 
Judas,  as  Andreyev  depicts  him,  betrayal  is  only  a  mask,  not 
his  real  face.  He  betrays  Christ  out  of  love  for  Him,  out 
of  the  yearning  for  a  miracle.  He  wants  the  world  to  realize 
quickly  who  Christ  is.  He  hopes  that  .people  will  liberate 
Christ  from  the  hands  of  His  tormentors,  he  hopes  they  will 
pull  the  accursed  cross  out  of  the  ground  and  raise  free  Jesus 
high  above  the  earth."  L.  S.  Kozlovsky. 


LEONID  ANDREYEV  237 

11.  Darkness.    Novelette.    (1907.) 

Here  Andreyev  raises  the  question:  What  right  has  a 
man  to  be  good  in  the  face  of  so  many  unhappy  people 
whom  life  made  sinful?  Isn't  it  the  greatest  sacrifice  to 
give  one's  purity  for  his  fellow-beings?  The  story  aroused 
much  discussion. 

12.  The  Life  of  Man.    A  play.    (1907.) 

This  is  an  almost  allegorical  work.  What  is  the  mean- 
ing of  life?  Of  what  avail  is  our  struggle  for  happiness 
if  everything  is  destined  to  pass  away?  What  sense  is 
there  in  beauty,  youth,  love,  fame,  friendship,  creative 
work,  if  man  is  always  alone  and  at  the  end  he  is  old  and 
doomed  to  death? 

All  these  questions  are  shouting  from  The  Life  of  Man. 
The  inexorableness  of  the  order  of  things  is  represented 
by  Him  in  Gray,  in  whose  hands  the  candle  symbolizing 
human  life  is  burning  down  slowly  but  incessantly. 

"  Who  is  '  He  in  Gray?  '  Is  it  God,  Devil,  Fate?  We  do 
not  know.  Neither  does  Andreyev  know.  Or  perhaps  he 
only  pretends  not  to  know.  A  deeply  nihilistic  thought,  full 
of  all-denying  pessimism,  is  hidden  behind  '  Him  in  Gray.' 
For  Andreyev,  there  is  nothing  beyond,  neither  Devil,  nor 
God,  nor  Fate.  There  is  only  '  Somebody  in  Gray,'  only 
a  '  Wall '  against  which  mankind  struggles  in  vain.  It  is  a 
stony,  gray,  indifferent  implacable  wall." 

K.  I.  Arabazhin. 

13.  King  Hunger.    A  play.     (1908.) 

An  allegorical  presentation  of  modern  class-struggle 
and  revolution.  Artistically,  King  Hunger  does  not  rank 
with  the  best  of  Andreyev's  works.  It  is,  however,  signifi- 
cant as  a  reflection  of  the  counter-revolution  in  Russia  and 
the  belief  in  coming  upheavals. 


238  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

14.  Eleazar.    A  story.     (1908.) 

The  man  who  spent  three  days  and  three  nights  in  the 
kingdom  of  death  comes  back  to  life,  yet  his  glance 
deadens  all  joy  and  puts  horror  into  men's  hearts. 
Eleazar  is  counted  among  the  best  of  Andreyev's  produc- 
tions. 

15.  The  Seven  Who  Were  Hanged.    Novelette.    (1909.) 
Seven  men  and  women,  revolutionists  and  ordinary 

criminals,  are  waiting  for  death  in  their  prison  cells. 
What  do  they  experience?  What  thoughts  are  surging  in 
their  minds?  What  visions  do  they  see?  What  fears  are 
consuming  them?  Leonid  Andreyev  follows  the  seven  up 
to  the  very  scaffold.  The  story  stands  out  as  a  work  of 
unsurpassed  strength  and  penetration. 

16.  Anathema.    A  tragedy.    (1909.) 

Three  figures  occupy  the  foreground  in  this  profound 
work:  David  Laizer,  personifying  goodness  and  self- 
sacrifice  for  the  sake  of  humanity;  Anathema,  personify- 
ing the  inquisitive  human  mind  that  wants  to  understand 
instead  of  blindly  believing;  and  He  Who  Guards  the 
Entrance,  the  eternal  mystery,  the  eternal  silence  to 
which  man  cannot  reconcile  himself.  Anathema  is  highly 
valued  as  a  work  of  art. 

17.  The  Ocean.    A  tragedy.    (1911.) 

"  Beyond  the  shores  of  life,  beyond  the  boundaries  ac- 
cessible to  our  eyes,  the  limitless  ocean  of  chaos  begins,  deep, 
indomitable,  constantly  stirred.  Andreyev's  symbolical  drama, 
The  Ocean,  is  a  hymn  to  this  boundless  unconquered  elemental 
power  of  life,  to  those  new  and  fearful  possibilities  of  life  ex- 
ceeding all  limits  of  conscious  creative  work." 

L.  S.  Kozlovsky. 


LEONID  ANDREYEV  239 

Andreyev's  lyrical  qualities  attain  here  an  unusual 
power. 

18.  The  Sorrows  of  Belgium.    A  play.    (1914.) 

The  fate  of  invaded  Belgium  and  the  sacrifice  of  her 
best  minds  are  represented  in  this  imaginary  work. 

19.  Gaudeamus.    (1910.) 

20.  Ekaterina  Ivanovna.     (191 3.) 

Two  plays  of  the  more  realistic  kind,  where  philosophi- 
cal problems  give  way  to  dramas  of  everyday  life.  The 
characters  in  both  plays  are  sharply  drawn,  and  the 
psychological  analysis  is  very  keen.  Both  plays  were,  for 
a  long  time,  part  of  the  Russian  repertoire. 

[Other  works  of  interest :  To  the  Stars,  a  play ;  The  Thief, 
a  story ;  The  Red  Laughter,  notes ;  The  Curse  of  the  Beast,  a 
story;  My  Diary,  a  story;  Sashka  Zhegulev,  a  novel;  Anfisa, 
a  play.  It  must  be  noted  that  in  almost  every  work  of 
Andreyev's  his  creative  personality  is  revealed  to  a  certain 
degree,  the  only  exceptions  being  his  early  stories  up  to  ap- 
proximately 1 900-1901.  Nearly  every  work  of  Andreyev's, 
therefore,  is  of  interest  to  the  student.] 


V.  VERESAYEV  (1867-) 

Author  of  stories  and  sketches  whose  works  were  par- 
ticularly dear  to  the  progressive  Russian  intellectual  of 
modern  times.  Veresayev,  perhaps,  more  than  any  other 
writer  marks  the  transition  from  old  patriarchalism  to  the 
intensity  of  modern  social  life.  In  his  first  stories  we  still 
feel  the  melancholy  resignation  of  a  Chekhov.  In  his 
post-revolutionary  works  (after  1905)  there  is  the  sturdy 
optimism  characteristic  of  Gorky.  Veresayev  gives  lucid 
and  colorful  expression  to  social  gropings  prevailing 
among  the  thinking  elements  of  Russia.  The  pivot  of  his 
artistic  interest  is  man  in  his  relation  to  self-sacrifice  for 
a  great  social  cause.  However,  his  figures  are  no  abstrac- 
tions. They  breathe  the  spirit  of  unmistakable  reality. 
They  are  molded  from  the  clay  of  experiences  common  to 
every  man  and  woman  in  Russia  who  was  connected  with 
the  struggle  for  freedom. 

"  Veresayev  is  neither  a  master  of  our  thoughts,  nor  a  master 
of  our  feelings.  He  is  merely  a  sensitive,  observing  intellectual, 
himself  overmastered  by  current  thoughts  and  feelings.  With 
marvelous  precision  and  skill,  he  records  the  fluctuations  of 
the  social  tide.  He  has  reflected  all  the  changes  in  the  course 
of  social  thought,  all  the  stages  of  social  movement.  .  .  .  His 
courageous,  active  characters  illumine  the  darkness  of  Rus- 
sian life  like  so  many  bright  torches,  and  like  the  luminaries 
of  Christianity  they  wake  in  our  soul  a  passionate  desire  to 
live  in  light,  to  forsake  the  stale  misery  of  everyday  life  for 
the  joy  of  heroic  deeds." 

V.  Lvov. 
240 


V.  VERESAYEV  241 

"  Veresayev's  hero  is  always  an  intellectual,  and  could  be 
nothing  else.  Veresayev  is  a  writer  of  the  intelligentzia,  pure 
and  simple.  He  is  fascinated  by  contemplations  over  the  intel- 
ligentzia; he  is  its  historian  and  interpreter.  As  a  manysided 
person,  Veresayev  is  necessarily  interested  in  many  things,  yet 
only  in  a  casual  way.  His  real  self  is  revealed  in  his  analysis 
of  the  intellectual's  mind.  This  is  his  element,  his  main  object, 
his  real  interest  that  gives  a  clue  to  his  personality.  What- 
ever he  has  written  bears  the  sharp  imprint  of  deep  personal 
experiences.  The  works  and  the  author  are  intimately  con- 
nected as  if  supplementing  each  other.  In  this  respect  hardly 
any  writer  is  more  subjective  than  Veresayev." 

E.  KOLTONOVSKAYA. 

Veresayev's  language  is  clear,  simple,  and  refined.  His 
tone  is  sincere  and  intimate.  His  attitude  is  broad  and 
sympathetic.  A  peculiar  warmth  of  human  understand- 
ing permeates  Veresayev's  writings,  and  the  reader  feels 
that  he  is  taken  into  the  confidence  of  a  loving  brother 
who  cherishes  beautiful  ideals. 

1.   Pathless.    A  story.    (1894.) 

"  Tchekanov,  the  hero  of  Pathless,  a  physician,  is  a  son  of 
the  dark  and  gloomy  eighties  when  nobody  saw  a  way  out. 
He  is  weighed  down  by  the  '  horror  and  curse '  of  his  gen- 
eration. ...  He  is  able,  honest;  he  is  hungry  for  social 
activities,  yet  his  time  passes  aimlessly,  '  with  no  guiding 
star,'  and  he  does  not  believe  he  could  make  use  of  his  powers. 
When  opportunity  offers  itself,  he  goes  to  fight  famine  and 
cholera,  yet  he  lacks  faith  to  animate  his  work.  His  only 
desire  is  to  '  anesthetize  himself,  to  find  complete  forgetrful- 
ness  '  in  this  semblance  of  useful  work  in  the  service  of 
humanity. 

"  Life  is  cruel  to  him.  The  people  whom  he  wanted  to  serve 
mistake  him  for  an  enemy  and  beat  him  to  death.  The 
physician  dies  in  a  rotten  dark  village,  and  it  is  astonishing 
to  find  that  on  his  deathbed  he  musters  enough  power  to 
forgive  the  people."  A.  Izmailov. 


242  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

2.  The  Contagious  Disease.    A  story.    (1897). 

This  story  depicts  the  next  stage  in  the  life  of  the  in- 
telligentzia. The  deep  shadows  of  the  eighties  are  al- 
ready dissipating.  There  are  new  voices  in  the  air. 
Labor  begins  to  stir.  Unrest  is  accumulating  under  the 
surface.    The  Marxists  are  predicting  a  speedy  revolution. 

"In  prolonged  debates  between  Narodniki  and  Marxists, 
the  standards  of  two  camps  and  two  generations  become  out- 
lined in  a  somewhat  schematic  manner.  On  one  hand  the 
camp  of  the  sentimental  philanthropists  of  the  eighties  who  had 
substituted  the  sacrifice  of  money  for  the  sacrifice  of  them- 
selves and  had  confused  service  to  the  government  with  serv- 
ice to  the  people ;  on  the  other  hand  the  camp  of  revolutionary 
Marxists  rejecting  compromises  and  half-measures,  proclaiming 
with  enthusiasm  the  gospel  of  work  for  the  cause." 

V.  L.  LVOV-ROGATCHEVSKY. 

3.  The  Turning  Point.    Novel.    (1902.) 

The  story  marks  the  beginning  of  the  new  century, 
We  find  in  it  a  group  of  young  intellectuals  some  of  whom 
are  actually  engaged  in  revolutionary  work.  We  still  hear 
the  voices  of  meditation  and  reflection;  there  are  men  and 
women  who  complain  and  whine  in  their  inability  either 
to  raise  the  banner  of  heroic  but  dangerous  work  or  settle 
down  in  the  mire  of  conventional  sluggishness.  Yet  those 
feeble  voices  are  drowned  in  hymns  of  youth  and  life, 
unreflecting,  undoubting,  unflinching,  eager  to  give  every- 
thing in  the  ecstasy  of  revolutionary  onrush.  In  the 
background,  the  figure  of  the  revolutionary  workingman 
looms  up. 

4.  Towards  Life.    Novel.    (1909.) 

Here  we  notice  the  growth  of  the  revolutionary  intel- 
lectual as  a  result  of  intensive  social  strife  and  an  im- 


V.  VERESAYEV  243 

proved  social  atmosphere.    The  hero  grows  broader  and 
deeper. 

"  The  hero  is  much  interested  in  social  problems ;  he  is  a 
radical,  a  member  of  the  Social-Democratic  party.  Yet  he  is 
no  more  a  rationalist  as  were  the  former  heroes  of  Veresayev. 
He  has  a  religious  feeling  and  a  still  more  pronounced  cosmic 
feeling.  He  is,  first  of  all,  a  man  facing  God  and  Nature.  He 
needs  to  know  the  truth  about  himself  as  a  man,  a  part  of 
one  great  living  whole.  The  dry  human  reason  with  its 
ready  answers  that  'have  no  roots  in  the  soul/  inspires  him 
with  little  confidence.  He  greedily  listens  to  the  voices  of  his 
elemental  life  where  everything  is  to  him  dark,  mysterious,  and 
new." 

E.  KOLTONOVSKAYA. 

5.  Memories  of  a  Physician.     (1901.) 

With  ultimate  sincerity  Veresayev  related  in  this  book 
his  experiences  first  as  a  student  of  medicine,  then  as 
a  young  physician.  What  he  told  was  not  flattering  to 
the  medical  profession.  The  book  aroused  an  enormous 
amount  of  discussion. 

6.  In  the  War.    Sketches.     (1907.) 

As  a  participant  of  the  Russo-Japanese  war,  Veresayev 
gives  an  eyewitness's  account  of  the  inefficiency,  negli- 
gence, cowardice,  and  brutality  of  the  Russian  military 
command  which  culminated  in  shameful  defeats.  This 
is  one  of  the  most  truthful  stories  of  the  disintegration 
and  demoralization  of  a  great  army  under  corrupt  rule. 

7.  The  Living  Life,  consisting  of  two  volumes: 

Dostoyevsky  and  Leo  Tolstoi.    (1911.) 
Apollo  and  Dionysius.     (191 5.) 
Differing  in  contents,  the  first  being  a  juxtaposition  of 
Dostoyevsky's  and  Tolstoi's  philosophies  of  life,  the  sec- 


244  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

ond,  a  study  in  Nietzsche's  philosophy  as  compared  with 
the  cults  of  the  ancient  gods  of  Greece,  both  volumes  have 
one  aim, — the  assertion  of  life.  Veresayev  proclaims  the 
supremacy  of  instinct  over  reason,  of  life  over  conscious- 
ness. Truth  is  to  him,  together  with  Nietzsche,  "  not  a 
thing  to  be  revealed,  but  a  thing  to  be  created."  The  road 
to  it  lies  in  "  rejuvenation  of  the  man  himself,  rejuvena- 
tion of  his  blood,  nerves,  his  entire  body,  regeneration  of 
the  instinct  of  life."  The  books  are  written  in  an  easy 
and  vivid  style,  and  are  full  of  poetic  beauty. 

[Of  interest  are  also  Veresayev's  short  stories  and  his  longer 
story,  The  End  of  Audrey  Ivanovitch.] 


A.  KUPRIN  (1870-) 

Writer  of  stories  and  sketches.  Kuprin's  works,  all  of 
a  realistic  character,  reveal  the  author  as  a  man  of 
spiritual  balance  and  health.  Kuprin  is  interested  in  life, 
in  all  its  manifestations.  The  Stream  of  Life  he  called 
one  of  his  stories,  and  the  stream  of  life  he  is  eager  to 
reflect  in  his  artistic  productions.  Life  is  infinite;  its 
forms  are  countless;  its  happenings  are  manifold;  the 
aspect  of  things  changes  from  beautiful  sublimity  to 
crime  and  despair.  Yet  the  light  of  the  soul  shines 
through  all  the  jungles  of  life,  and  our  scrutiny  of  her 
face  should  never  lose  its  keenness.  Such  is  Kuprin's 
program. 

Kuprin  is  actuated  by  an  insatiable  artistic  curiosity. 
He  would  not  shut  himself  in  one  corner  of  the  world. 
There  is  not  one  thing  that  looms  up  before  his  eyes  to  the 
exclusion  of  the  rest.  The  problem  of  God  or  the  life 
beyond  is  only  one  wave  in  the  stream  of  life;  revolution 
is  a  ripple;  death  is  an  episode;  sex  is  one  among  many 
emotions.  Joy  and  sadness  are  twin  brothers  wander- 
ing through  the  hearts  of  men.  What  remains  for  the 
artist  is  to  go  through  life,  to  fix  his  gaze  on  people, 
characters,  quaint  constellations,  amusing  or  touching  or 
shocking  happenings. 

This  Kuprin  does  with  joy  and  force.  His  works  are 
all  alive  with  gay  designs,  brimful  of  powerful  emotions, 
astir  with  movement  and  packed  with  meaning,  swept  by 
strong  winds,  and  pierced  through  by  arrows  of  light. 
Kuprin  loves  everything,  and  the  number  of  his  friends  is 

245 


246  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

amazing:  the  tramp  and  the  scholar,  the  horse  thief  and 
the  philosopher,  the  contrabandist  and  the  artist,  the  bar- 
keeper and  the  physician,  the  prostitute  and  the  priest, 
the  plain  soldier  and  the  army  officer,  the  Pole  and  the 
Jew,  the  revolutionist  and  the  Black  Hundred  official, 
the  peasant  and  the  noble  landlord,  the  industrial  worker 
and  the  business  magnate,  the  prize-fighter  and  the  school 
teacher,  the  young  girl  and  the  crippled  beggar,  the  child 
and  the  burglar,  the  race  horse  and  the  dog, — all  find  room 
in  his  stories,  and  to  all  of  them  he  gives  in  turn  his  lov- 
ing attention.  He  makes  no  effort  in  calling  his  figures 
into  existence.  They  come  to  him  with  ease  and  grace. 
His  only  task  is  to  choose,  to  concentrate  for  a  while  on 
a  definite  point  in  the  everlasting  current.  This  concen- 
tration is  done  with  unusual  energy.  Kuprin  takes  in 
every  shade,  every  line,  every  detail.  His  characters  are 
typical.  His  slang  is  magnificent.  His  dialogues  are 
reality  itself.  His  descriptions  are  a  result  of  numerous 
and  careful  observations.  Altogether  his  works  unfold 
before  the  reader  a  broad  and  varied  panorama  of  every- 
day Russian  life  at  the  beginning  of  the  twentieth  cen- 
tury. At  the  same  time,  there  is  a  touch  of  sadness  in 
most  of  Kuprin 's  writings,  as  if  a  man  were  bashfully 
yearning  for  something  vague  and  beautiful  which  will 
never  be  attained. 

In  summing  up  Kuprin's  merits,  in  a  report  before  the 
Russian  National  Academy,  division  of  Literature,  in 
1 91 2,  the  aged  venerable  academician,  K.  Arsenyev,  thus 
characterized  our  author: 

"  Kuprin  remains  faithful  to  the  best  traditions  of  our 
literature.  Not  overstepping  the  boundaries  of  healthy  realism, 
at  the  same  time  not  shrinking  before  the  darkest  sides  of 
reality,  he  follows  the  traditions  of  Turgenev  in  preserving  the 


A.  KUPRIN  247 

purity  of  the  Russian  language,  and  he  writes  with  a  graceful 
simplicity  which  excludes  artificial  contents  or  unnaturally 
distorted  form." 

These  words  link  Kuprin  with  Russian  literature  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  with  Turgenev  and  Tolstoi:  Kuprin 
is  a  direct  descendant  of  the  classics.  Yet  there  is  a  dif- 
ference between  him  and  the  traditional  Russian  writer. 
Kuprin  lacks  a  central  idea.  His  works  do  not  revolve 
around  one  axis.  Therefore,  they  do  not  seem  to  be  dis- 
jecta membra  of  one  whole.  "  What  is  Kuprin  himself?  " 
The  question  was  asked  many  a  time  by  Russian  critics. 
The  answer  can  be  only  general.  Kuprin,  as  seen  in  his 
works,  loves  strength,  motion,  sharp  reliefs,  bright  colors, 
and  he  is  more  interested  in  the  psychology  of  men  than 
in  universal  ideas.  Often  he  is  witty,  and  his  humor  is 
refreshing.  Sometimes  he  chooses  to  become  very  simple, 
and  then  he  writes  delightful  stories  for  children.  Russia 
has  been  glad  to  recognize  his  value  as  a  narrator,  and 
he  occupies  a  foremost  place  among  the  present  genera- 
tion of  writers. 

In  his  versatility,  in  his  search  for  local  color,  in  his 
careful  construction  of  a  plot,  Kuprin  approaches  the  type 
of  an  American  story-writer  more,  perhaps,  than  any  of 
his  contemporaries. 

1.   Short  Stories.    (1893-1918.) 

It  is  hardly  possible  to  make  a  choice  between  Kuprin's 
numerous  short  stories.  In  fact,  each  has  an  interest  of 
its  own,  and  no  one  can  serve  as  a  substitute  for  another. 
The  student  of  Russian  literature  and  Russian  life  will 
read  as  many  of  them  as  can  be  secured. 

"  Kuprin's  stories  give  the  impression  of  unusual  freshness, 
purity,  and  brightness.    Reading  those  brief  scenes,  sketches 


248  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

and  descriptions,  you  experience  something  akin  to  your  state 
of  mind  on  a  clear  spring  morning,  when  the  air  expands  your 
chest,  when  you  breathe  easily  and  freely,  when  the  most 
delicate  details  of  the  young  verdure  are  drawn  against  a 
blue  sky  with  marvelous  accuracy.  Life  is  gladdening  at  such 
moments,  and  this  unconscious  gladness  over  the  interest,  the 
depth  and  the  multiplicity  of  life,  fills  Kuprin's  book.  The 
artist  resembles  a  child  who  has  just  rushed  out  into  the 
fields;  he  cannot  have  enough  of  the  immediateness  of  exist- 
tence;  he  is  affected  himself  and  affects  the  reader  with 
healthy,  sturdy  feelings.  Involuntarily  you  exclaim, '  God,  how 
good  it  is  to  live!  '  And  yet,  the  content  of  the  stories  is  not 
happy.  In  them,  as  in  life,  sorrow  and  joy,  the  comic  and 
the  sad  are  combined  in  the  most  capricious  patterns,  are  fused 
into  one  multicolored  bright  picture  so  alive  that  you  can  al- 
most touch  it."  A.  I.  Bogdanovitch  . 

Of  the  longer  stories  the  most  remarkable  are: 

2.    The  Duel.    Novel.    (1905.) 

One  of  the  first  to  describe  barrack-life  in  modern 
Russia.  (Before  1905,  the  censor  allowed  no  adequate 
description  of  the  army.)  The  main  figures  in  the  story 
are  the  officers  of  a  regiment  stationed  in  a  provincial 
town.  The  tragedies  of  the  heroes  are  of  a  more  univer- 
sal than  local  character.  Yet  great  attention  is  given  to 
the  environment,  to  the  psychology  of  the  plain  soldiers, 
the  drilling,  the  senseless  subordination,  the  inefficiency 
of  the  commander.  The  types  of  the  officers  are  drawn 
with  a  skilful  hand. 

"  The  Duel  is  the  best  of  Kuprin's  works.  It  reveals  his 
talent  in  a  maximum  of  power  and  brilliancy.  It  is  written 
with  amazing  mastery,  at  the  same  time  it  shows  no  signs  of 
effort.  A  plastic  expositor  of  real  life  is  combined  in  Kuprin 
with  an  artist  of  modern  type,  a  psychologist,  and  a  lyricist. 
The  Duel  is  not  only  a  story  but  an  artistic  epic,  both  of  so- 


A.  KUPRIN  249 

ciety  and  individuals,  combining  the  satirical  and  the  tragic 
elements.  Its  power  is  in  its  simplicity  and  in  its  undivided 
artistic  mood." 

E.  KOLTONOVSKAYA. 

3.  Sulamith.    Novelette.    (1908.) 

The  love-story  of  King  Solomon  and  the  shepherdess. 
Oriental  nature,  oriental  tone,  and  oriental  temperament 
are  reproduced  in  this  work  with  much  love  and  artistic 
finish.  One  of  the  best  exotic  stories  in  the  Russian 
language. 

4.  The  Pit.    Novel.    (1909-1913.) 

The  scene  of  action  is  a  house  of  ill-repute  in  a  south- 
ern Russian  town.  The  characters  are  a  number  of  girls 
and  a  host  of  intellectual  visitors.  The  work  is  a  gallery 
of  the  actual  types  which  could  be  met  in  any  intellectual 
circle  in  Russia.  The  place  where  the  author  finds  his 
men,  gives  him  an  opportunity  to  look  deeper  into  their 
real  selves.  Kuprin  does  not  shun  details  of  sex-life,  yet 
he  alway°  remains  the  artist  whose  frankness  is  the  pres- 
entation of  truth.  He  never  revels  in  an  artistically 
superfluous  scrutiny  of  vulgar  things.  There  is  almost  an 
unique  simplicity  in  his  writings  on  sex  relation.  The 
psychological  analysis  is  very  keen. 

5.  A  Bracelet  of  Garnets.    Novelette.    (1911.) 

A  sentimental  yet  very  beautiful  love-story,  full  of 
romanticism  and  youthful  faith  in  human  nature.  As  a 
mottQ,  the  author  puts  on  the  front  pages  the  following 
note:  "  L.  van  Beethoven,  2  Son.    (Op.  2,  No.  2)." 

6.  Leastrygonians.    Sketches.    (191 2.) 

One  of  the  most  charming  descriptions  of  the  Black 
Sea  coast  and  its  fisherfolk.    Kuprin's  eye  for  nature's 


250  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

beauty  and  his  love  for  the  primitive  appear  at  their  best 
in  these  sketches.  Refinement,  humor,  imagination,  make 
these  simple  pages  almost  a  hymn  to  the  eternal  forces 
of  life. 

"  Sharp  external  perception  is  combined  in  Kuprin  with 
internal  fullness  and  depth.  He  almost  exceeds  the  boundaries 
of  our  five  senses.  He  is  endowed  with  a  strange  faculty,  a 
subconscious  reason,  which  enables  him  to  grasp  the  inner  sub- 
stance of  things,  the  sequence  of  causes  and  effects,  the  primi- 
tive foundation  of  life." 

E.  KOLTONOVSKAYA. 

[Other  works  of  interest:  Moloch;  Stories  for  Children;  Hu- 
morous Stories;  At  Rest,  a  play.] 


I.  BUNIN  (1870-) 

In  lonely  corners  of  the  great  Plain,  old  mansions  are 
dreaming  of  days  gone  by.  Life,  once  gay  and  sturdy, 
oozed  out  through  moldy  floors  and  cracked  walls.  The 
noble  inhabitants  have  disappeared,  or  live  in  little  out- 
buildings, forlorn  and  poor.  The  broad  ponds  are  half 
dry.  The  park  and  the  orchard  overrun  the  playgrounds 
and  the  paths.  A  riot  of  green  and  blossoms  triumphs 
over  the  work  of  human  hands.  Life  glories  among  ruins. 
...  An  eternal  sun  pours  life  over  dilapidation. 

This  is  the  Russia  of  the  nobles,  the  decay  of  noble 
landholding:  a  tendency  clearly  marked  in  the  economic 
history  of  Russia  after  the  abolition  of  serfdom. 

In  one  of  such  melancholy  nooks,  Ivan  Bunin  was 
born.  In  his  childhood,  he  still  breathed  the  atmosphere 
of  ancient  traditions.  The  old  types,  pillars  of  an  archaic 
yet  genuine  culture,  were  still  alive,  though  passing 
rapidly.  When  he  grew  up,  decay  was  nearly  complete. 
Sadness  lingered  on  the  silent,  too  silent  piazzas;  sad- 
ness looked,  wide-eyed,  at  the  onrush  of  primitive  nature. 

This  clear  crystalline  sadness  Bunin  took  with  him 
into  his  poems  and  stories.  It  is  a  sadness  that  never  com- 
plains. It  is  dejection  full  of  reserve  and  resignation. 
It  is  dignified.  It  is  shy.  Its  words  are  scant  and  lucid. 
It  looks  backward  yet  it  has  courage  to  face  the  present. 
It  finds  a  quaint  happiness  in  its  own  sweetness.  And  it 
finds  consolation  in  life's  eternal  regeneration.  "  My 
heart  is  grieving  in  secret  joy  that  life  is  vast  and  empty 
like  the  steppe."  .  .  .  "  All  is  as  was  before.  .  .  .  Only 

251 


252  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

my  life  has  passed."  ..."  And  happy  am  I  with  my 
grievous  lot."  .  .  .  "  I  greet  you,  silent  cell  and  joy  of 
lonely  days." 

In  Bunin's  poems,  nature  is  foremost,  but  it  appears  in 
its  more  subdued  moments.  Dusk,  night,  moonshine, 
autumn,  falling  leaves,  far  north,  golden  fields  after  har- 
vest, asters,  steppe,  hoar  frost,  lonely  forest.  .  .  .  Bunin 
not  only  describes,  he  lives  nature.  Often  he  goes  to  the 
Orient,  to  Asia  Minor,  Palestine,  Egypt,  Turkey.  He 
stands  there  at  the  grave  of  ancient  civilizations;  he 
meditates  over  the  tombs  of  old  heroic  deeds.  His  sad- 
ness is  nourished  by  the  contrast  between  the  present 
loneliness  and  the  former  wealth  of  thought  and  action. 
His  moods  become  more  universal.  His  poems  rise  to 
heights  of  philosophic  contemplation. 

In  his  stories,  Bunin  lovingly  returns  to  the  old  noble 
mansion.  He  recollects  former  years.  He  draws  types 
of  the  former  generation.  He  gives  the  spirit  of  the  old, 
carefree  life.  When  he  visits  the  same  mansions  later, 
he  sees  the  passing,  the  desolation,  the  cobwebs,  the 
powerless  inhabitants.  His  stories,  or  rather  sketches,  of 
this  life  are  almost  poems  in  prose, — the  notes  of  a  wan- 
derer who  has  lost  his  home.  What  he  describes  is  no 
more  his  own,  though  it  stirs  beautiful  and  gracious  recol- 
lections. Here  Bunin  remains  detached, — friendly,  un- 
derstanding, but  detached. 

There  is,  however,  another  aspect  to  the  mansion,  and 
that  is  the  surrounding  village  with  its  moujiks.  Fol- 
lowing the  Russian  tradition,  Bunin  gives  much  care  to 
pictures  of  peasant  life.  But  here  he  is  still  more  de- 
tached. He  does  not  live  the  life  of  the  village.  He 
does  not  suffer  the  pain  of  its  people.  He  does  not  see 
their  visions.    He  is  an  outside  observer,  and  what  he 


I.  BUNIN  253 

sees  and  narrates  is  appalling.  Here  the  lyrical  tone 
leaves  Bunin  entirely.  He  is  cool  and  analytical,  and 
though  he  does  not  accuse,  he  cannot  conceal  his  aversion. 
"  They  have  not  even  traditions,"  he  writes  of  the  peas- 
ants. "  Their  graves  have  no  names.  And  their  lives, 
how  they  resemble  each  other,  how  meager  they  are  and 
how  they  pass  without  leaving  a  trace!  For  the  fruit  of 
their  work  and  worry  is  only  bread,  the  real  concrete 
bread  which  is  being  eaten.  They  have  dug  ponds  in  the 
rocky  bed  of  the  little  stream  Kamenka  which  disap- 
peared long  ago.  Yet  the  ponds  are  nothing  durable, 
they  become  dry.  They  have  built  habitations.  Yet 
their  habitations  are  short-lived;  at  the  first  spark  they 
burn  to  the  ground."  Bunin  has  no  love  for  this  kind 
of  people  and  almost  no  pity. 

Bunin 's  style  is  well  characterized  by  the  venerable 
academician,  Count  Golenishtchev-Kutuzov,  in  a  paper 
presented  to  the  National  Academy:  "  Those  who  seek 
1  novelty  '  in  art  can  find  proof  in  Bunin's  works  to  the 
effect  that  real  art  detects  in  ages-old  and  yet  ever  young 
pictures  of  nature,  as  well  as  in  the  moods  of  the  human 
soul,  a  wealth  of  new  details,  new  shades  of  beauty  which 
can  be  expressed  in  original  form  without  recurring  to  the 
artificial  means  of  symbolism,  impressionism,  or  deca- 
dence." Bunin  himself,  in  a  public  address  in  19 13, 
characterized  as  "  the  most  precious  features  "  of  Russian 
literature  the  qualities  of  "  depth,  earnestness,  simplicity, 
sincerity,  nobility,  directness,"  repudiating  all  "  modern- 
ist "  attempts.  Bunin  remains  classic.  Yet  he  could  not 
avoid  the  influence  of  his  time.  His  poems  are  more 
colorful  than  those  of  the  nineteenth  century  and  are  often 
tinged  with  impressionism,  especially  where  the  shades  of 
color  are  given. 


254  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

i.   Poems.    (Various  collections  and  groups  between  1886 

and  1915O 

"Against  the  background  of  Russian  modernism,  Bunin's 
poetry  stands  out  as  the  best  in  the  old.  He  continues  the 
eternal  Pushkin  tradition  and  in  his  clear  and  stern  outlines 
he  gives  examples  of  nobility  and  directness.  .  .  .  His  lines 
are  of  the  old  coinage  that  has  stood  the  test;  his  handwriting 
is  the  most  legible  in  modern  literature;  his  design  is  concise 
and  concentrated.  .  .  .  Both  inwardly  and  outwardly,  his 
poems  deviate  from  prose  at  just  the  proper  time ;  perhaps  it  is 
more  correct  to  say  that  he  makes  prose  poetic;  perhaps  he 
rather  conquers  prose  and  turns  it  into  poems  than  creates 
poems  as  something  apart  from  prose.  His  verse  seems  to 
have  lost  its  independence,  its  absolute  distinction  from  prose, 
yet  it  has  not  become  ordinary. 

"  Bunin  turns  into  poetry  the  everyday  facts.  He  is  not 
afraid  of  the  old  values  of  the  world.  ...  He  pictures  facts, 
from  which  beauty  is  organically  born.  We  would  call  it  white 
beauty,  for  this  is  Bunin's  favorite  color.  The  epithets  white, 
silvery,  silver-gray  sound  so  often  in  his  lucid  pages.  Not 
only  on  his  window-pane  '  silvery  from  rime,  chrysanthemums 
are  sketched '  but  his  poems  in  general  seem  to  be  touched 
with  rime  and  recall  those  charming  arabesques  which  our  Rus- 
sian landscape  painter,  Frost,  draws.  .  .  .  His  poetry  never 
flames,  it  has  no  pathos,  but  it  has  the  power  of  sincerity  and 
truth."  J.  Eichenwald. 

"  Bunin  has  shown  an  inimitable  mastery  in  the  art  of  land- 
scape painting.  In  this  realm  none  equals  him  among  the 
writers  of  the  present  generation.  Bunin's  landscapes  are  dis- 
tinguished by  genuine  simplicity  and  clarity.  His  attitude 
towards  nature  is,  not  the  impetuous  passion  of  Tyutchev,  but 
a  quiet  love  which  seeks  for  tenderness,  happiness,  joy." 

Vl.  Kranichfeld. 

"After  picturing  his  native  land,  he  was  drawn  to  far- 
away countries,  to  the  burning  sun-lit  Orient  which  he  de- 
scribes in  colors  seen  with  a  sharp  eye,  yet  he  also  puts  into 
his  poems  l  the  things  that  shone  in  these  lands.'    This,  how- 


I.  BUNIN  255 

ever,  he  acquired  mainly  from  books,  legends,  and  the  beliefs 
of  the  Oriental  peoples,  particularly  the  peoples  of  ancient 
times.  In  a  revival  of  the  past,  in  a  spiritual  communion  with 
former  generations,  Bunin  finds  a  way  of  broadening,  or,  as 
he  puts  it  himself,  of  '  multiplying  '  our  own  existence." 

Th.  D.  Batyushkov. 

2.  Short  Stories  and  Sketches.     (1886-19 17.) 

In  one  of  his  lyrical  sketches,  Bunin  speaks  of  his  trip 
over  a  new  railroad-line  cut  through  the  woods.  "  I  see 
the  station-fires  recede  and  disappear  among  the  trees. 
To  which  country  belong  I,  a  lonesome  wanderer?  What 
has  remained  in  common  between  me  and  this  primitive 
forest  land?  Over  vast  plains  it  stretches  endlessly.  Is 
it  my  part  to  understand  its  sorrow,  to  give  it  aid?  How 
beautiful,  how  rich  is  this  virgin  land!  Great  shadowy 
walls  loom  up  on  either  side  drowsing  silently  in  this 
warm  January  night  filled  with  the  tender  and  pure 
fragrance  of  snow  and  fresh  pines.  And  what  mystic  dis- 
tances ahead!  " 

This  tone  prevails  in  most  of  Bunin's  lyrical  sketches. 
However,  when  he  comes  down  to  the  plain  inhabitants  of 
these  "  mystic  distances,"  he  sees  only  misery  and  ugli- 
ness. A  hungry  peasant- woman  whose  children  are  too 
frightened  to  clamor  for  bread.  A  poor  country  teacher 
whose  life  is  devoid  of  culture  and  refinement.  A  broken 
landlord,  drinking  heavily.  Tattered  pilgrims  marching 
through  a  bleak  landscape.  A  country  priest  in  primitive 
surroundings.  "  Quiet  and  desolation, — not  exhaustion 
but  desolation,"  as  Bunin  said  in  one  of  these  sketches. 
"  A  whole  epic  of  desolation." 

3.  The  Village.    Sketches.    (1910.) 

In  this  book,  the  author's  aversion  to  village  life 
reached  its  climax.    With  outward  calm  and  inner  horror, 


256  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

Bunin  describes  the  peasants  of  a  small  village  after  the 
stormy  days  of  the  abortive  revolution.  He  sees  only 
hideous  instincts,  savagery,  brutality,  greed. 

"  Bunin  as  narrator  has  a  streak  of  cruelty.  It  is  in  the 
nature  of  his  talent.  His  is  not  the  pathological,  neurotic 
cruelty  which  pervades  Dostoyevsky's  works.  His  cruelty  is 
calm,  balanced,  judicious;  it  is  a  result  of  long  contemplation 
and  scrupulous  investigation.  Bunin  searches  for  the  roots  of 
evil  with  a  sober,  coldly  incisive  mind,  and  yet  with  inner  pas- 
sion. These  researches  draw  him  irresistibly.  The  impression 
created  by  The  Village  is  dumbfounding." 

E.  Kaltonovskaya. 

Bunin  is  also  known  as  a  translator  of  Anglo-American 
poets.  He  translated  many  of  Byron's,  Tennyson's,  and 
Longfellow's  poems. 

[Of  merit  is  also  Bunin's  Temple  of  the  Sun,  lyrical  travel- 
sketches  of  Turkey,  the  Archipelago,  Palestine,  Egypt.] 


O.  G.  SERGEYEV-TZENSKY  (1876-) 

In  the  polychrome  symphony  of  Russian  literature, 
Sergeyev-Tzensky's  voice  became  heard  as  a  cry  of  an- 
guish. Amidst  a  multitude  of  complacent  artists,  he 
stood  up  with  a  distorted  face,  with  a  curse  on  his  lips, 
with  a  gesture  of  burning  despair.  Life,  what  is  it?  It 
is  a  mockery,  a  humiliation.  "  All  of  life  seems  to  be 
dragged  to  the  ground  by  an  iron  rope;  there  is  no  good 
or  evil  in  life,  there  are  only  facts;  the  thing  that  alone 
justifies  life  is  horror,  which  has  been  invented  for  this 
purpose  by  the  feeble  human  soul."  Sergeyev-Tzensky 
was  vehement  and  merciless  in  recording  the  futility  of 
life.  It  seemed  to  him  that  the  fate  of  men  was  in  the 
hands  of  somebody  or  something  blind,  cruel,  vicious, 
without  aim  or  reason.  Accident  was  determining  the 
happiness  or  misery  of  human  beings;  brute  elemental 
force  was  killing  what  nobility  and  beauty  tried  to  as- 
sert itself.  "  Life  is  a  road  to  the  cemetery  decorated 
with  theatrical  scenery."  "Life  is  a  series  of  senseless 
accidents  and  senseless  deaths."  "Life  is  cruelty." 
"  Man  is  a  malign  mixture  of  deity  and  amphibium." 
Story  after  story  Sergeyev-Tzensky  put  forth  to  express 
his  repudiation  of  life.  And  because  the  stories  were 
strong  in  the  drawing  of  characters  and  the  vividness  of 
description,  and  because  the  sincerity  of  the  author  was 
felt  as  a  perceptible  vibration  throughout  every  story,  and 
because  his  productions  were  so  strange,  challenging, 
almost  cruel,  yet  always  full  of  a  humane  spirit  and 
tense  with  suppressed  emotion,  the  author  rapidly  became 

257 


258  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

the  object  of  interest  and  heated  discussion.  There  was 
much  gloom,  much  brooding,  much  ugliness  in  his  works. 
Yet  somehow  nobody  resented  it.  Sergeyev-Tzensky's 
personality  made  the  reader  accept  the  horrors  he  in- 
voked. The  reader  loved  this  afflicted,  much  suffering 
soul. 

At  the  same  time,  the  stories  of  Sergeyev-Tzensky  were 
astir  with  life.  This  gruff  negator  knew  so  well  the  secret 
of  loving  observation,  the  joy  of  contact  with  reality, 
the  fascination  of  closeness  to  nature.  Moreover,  he 
seemed  to  draw  a  sharp  line  between  human  society  and 
nature.  Man  is  being  eternally  "  chewed  between  the 
jaws  of  somebody  or  something  ";  nature  is  eternally 
harmonious  and  eternally  beautiful.  Man  is  destined  to 
pass;  Nature  is  everlasting;  her  strong  current  is  cleans- 
ing the  human  soul  of  its  mire  and  filth. 

As  years  passed,  however,  a  change  came  over  Ser- 
geyev-Tzensky. Perhaps  it  was  due  to  the  new  tone  in 
Russian  life  when  the  country  began  to  recuperate  after 
the  shock  of  190  5- 190 7.  Perhaps  it  was  due  to  the  grow- 
ing maturity  of  the  artist.  Sergeyev-Tzensky  began  to 
see  a  light  in  the  dark  cave  of  life.  He  discovered  a 
power  that  would  elevate  man  over  the  horrors,  the  mean- 
ness, and  the  cruelty  of  bare  facts.  Love  as  justification, 
emotional  acceptance  preceding  logical  inquiry,  impressed 
itself  on  the  writer's  creative  imagination.  His  stories 
were  now  shot  through  with  sympathy;  the  call  of  life  as 
an  irresistible  force,  the  overcoming  of  loneliness  through 
contact  with  another  human  soul,  became  the  subjects 
of  his  writing.  He  sees  a  time  in  the  future,  "when 
something  common  for  all  in  the  world  will  gradually 
filter  into  life.  Shall  I  call  it  soul,  mystery,  thought,  or 
eternity?     The  word  does  not  matter.     Whatever  you 


0.  G.  SERGEYEV-TZENSKY  259 

call  it,  the  word  will  not  express  the  thing  because  it  has 
no  name.  It  will  come,  and  everything  will  sound  in 
accord;  lines  from  everything  will  concentrate  in  the 
heart  of  man." 

In  this  new  phase,  Sergeyev-Tzensky  was  heartily 
greeted  by  those  who  believed  in  his  talent,  and  now  he 
stands  as  one  of  the  most  respected  and  hopeful  writers  of 
our  generation. 

"In  reading  Sergeyev-Tzensky's  stories,  we  are  invariably 
under  the  spell  of  the  rare  sincerity  and  avidity  with  which 
the  author  seeks  for  his  truth.  We  feel  that  for  him  it  is 
an  actual  question  of  life,  that  all  his  stories  and  novelettes, 
better  or  worse,  bright  or  dull,  are  not  a  narrative  of  his  seek- 
ing for  the  truth,  but  the  process  of  seeking  itself,  that  he 
wrote  them  not  for  the  reader  but  for  himself;  while  creating 
his  works,  he  formulates  to  himself,  he  clarifies  and  appre- 
hends those  nebulous  shapes  of  truth,  the  absence  of  which 
makes  life  devoid  of  meaning.  This  increases  the  contagious 
effect  of  the  objective  truth  sought  and  found  by  the  author." 

A.  Derman. 

"  The  world  for  Sergeyev-Tzensky  is  full  of  things ;  every- 
thing has  a  face,  has  life,  has  a  name.  Sergeyev-Tzensky's 
world  is  just  the  opposite  of  Dostoyevsky's,  where  human  beings 
are  surrounded  by  a  great  void;  here  everything  is  saturated 
with  a  variety  of  things  that  have  been  noticed,  recorded,  and 
expressed  in  the  language  of  the  plain  people,  in  our  every- 
day terminology.  Sergeyev-Tzensky  avidly  drinks  from  these 
inexhaustible  sources  of  concrete  knowledge  of  the  visible 
world.  '  Every  day  was  overcrowded  with  sun,  flowers,  care 
for  meals  and  tea,  sound  sleep/  So  every  story  by  Sergeyev- 
Tzensky  is  overcrowded  with  various  things,  colors,  names, 
sayings.  .  .  .  Here  everything  has  sharp  contours,  has  indi- 
viduality. Overpowered  by  the  idea  that  our  life  is  in  the 
hands  of  somebody  hostile,  he  still  admires  the  constructive 
processes  of  life.  .  .  .  Never  since  Gogol  has  Russian  litera- 
ture known  such  a  religion  of  work.    Death  only  emphasizes 


260  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

the  futility  of  this  intensive  spending  of  energy,  the  rottenness 
at  the  bottom  of  great  effort."  A.  Gornfeld. 

"  Sergeyev-Tzensky's  images,  all  saturated  with  color,  re- 
mind one  of  double-petaled  flowers  in  a  hothouse.  This  qual- 
ity is  felt  in  his  poetic  prose,  musical,  picturesque,  plastic, 
fragrant.  His  stories  should  not  be  read  in  haste,  should  not 
be  scanned.  One  ought  to  read  them  slowly,  the  way  you 
recite  verse  that  is  full  of  epithets  and  similes.  Sergeyev- 
Tzensky  is  an  artist  who  is  in  love  with  picturesque  words. 
He  does  not  typewrite  them,  indeed,  he  enjoys  the  creative 
process,  he  devotes  his  free  time  to  the  happiness  of  creative 
work.  ...  If  our  contemporary  writers  suffer  from  anemia, 
Sergeyev-Tzensky  is  sometimes  hampered  by  a  fullness  of 
blood  and  vigor.    His  imagination  knows  no  limit." 

V.  LVOV-ROGATCHEVSKY. 

"A  desire  to  express  in  full  every  notion  of  life,  coupled 
with  an  aversion  for  the  trite  images  and  similes  current  in 
literature,  led  Sergeyev-Tzensky,  in  the  first  years  of  his 
career,  to  use  queer  expressions,  startling  descriptions,  far- 
fetched similes  which  sometimes  appealed  very  little  to  the 
imagination  of  the  reader.  Some  of  his  descriptions  became  ex- 
cellent material  for  parodies.  Some  gave  him  more  fame  than 
even  the  discussions  over  his  best  stories.  It  must  be  noted, 
however,  that  at  no  time  was  it  a  pose  with  the  author. 
It  was  a  sincere  desire  on  his  part  to  give  the  impression  of 
the  thing  as  he  felt  it.  It  was  an  attempt  to  break  the 
monotony  of  traditional  writing.  That  it  induced  many  a 
critic  to  class  him  with  the  pseudo-modernists  and  decadents, 
mattered  little  to  him.  In  the  course  of  time,  he  gradually 
dropped  this  vague  and  unnatural  manner  and  became  strongly 
realistic  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word. 

"  Sergeyev-Tzensky  grows  with  every  year,  with  every  new 
step.  Each  new  work  of  his  bears  a  clearer  stamp  of  those 
tragic  motives  which  make  the  essence  of  Russian  literature 
and  give  it  a  world-wide  significance.  Ever  closer  does  he  come 
to  the  understanding  of  '  something '  which  makes  life  sacred 
and  reconciles  us  with  existence."  Ivanov-Razumnik. 


0.  G.  SERGEYEV-TZENSKY  261 

1.  Short  Stories.    (1903-1917.) 

The  evolution  of  Sergeyev-Tzensky's  conception  of  life 
can  be  traced  through  his  short  stories  as  well  as  through 
his  novelettes.  The  former,  therefore,  must  be  divided 
into  two  groups — those  of  the  first  and  those  of  the  sec- 
ond period.  The  most  characteristic  of  the  first  period 
are:  Masks;  Dijteria;  Father  Dear;  Murder;  Wing- 
Stroke;  I  Shall  Soon  Die;  A  Little  Corner;  The  Baby 
Bear;  On  the  Shore.  As  a  motto  to  all  these  stories,  a 
sentence  from  Masks  may  be  cited:  "  Somebody  big  and 
powerful  has  covered  the  earth  with  an  air-pump,  pressed 
its  edges  tight  and  pumped  the  air  from  within;  that  is 
why  life  is  so  crowded,  tense,  and  there  is  nothing  to 
breathe  with."  In  the  second  period,  of  which  the  stories 
Sky;  Bosom;  Neighbor;  Fright;  The  Sun  That  Is  in  No 
Hurry  are  the  most  characteristic,  a  more  optimistic  view 
on  life  prevails. 

2.  Forest  Marshes.    (1907.) 

One  of  the  most  impressive  of  the  author's  novelettes. 
It  is  the  story  of  a  plain  woman,  a  daughter  of  poor 
peasants,  who  has  an  inherently  beautiful  soul,  a  craving 
for  a  clean  life,  a  strong  sense  of  justice,  and  a  sensitive- 
ness as  tender  as  only  the  most  chosen  are  endowed  with. 
All  this,  however,  is  crushed  by  a  terrific  combination  of 
circumstances  amidst  a  poor  and  hideous  life,  and  finally 
the  woman  dies  as  senselessly  as  she  lived.  The  impres- 
sion of  Forest  Marshes  is  actually  haunting. 

3.  Babayev.    (1907.) 

A  series  of  sketches  in  its  totality  forming  the  life 
story  of  Lieutenant  Babayev,  who  serves  in  the  Russian 
army,  partakes  in  the  orgies  of  his  comrades,  in  the  Jew- 


262  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

ish  massacres,  in  the  quelling  of  a  peasants'  revolt,  in 
the  crushing  of  a  revolutionary  insurrection,  and  yet  feels 
that  his  life  is  ugly  and  that  there  must  be  some  truth, 
some  meaning  in  life  which  he  cannot  grasp.  The  struggle 
of  that  unhappy  and  cruel  soul  for  a  solution  of  his  ap- 
palling existence  makes  the  reader  forget  some  weak  parts 
in  the  work.  Babayev  is  essentially  Russian,  and  it  shows 
a  varied  panorama  of  general  disorder  and  neurasthenia 
in  the  Russia  of  1 905-1 906. 

"  There  is  no  meaning,  no  sanctity,  no  beauty, — Lieutenant 
Babayev  cannot  find  them,  and  therefore  he  purposely  and 
with  cold  curiosity  commits  all  these  senseless,  criminal,  ab- 
horrent acts.  When  he  shoots  down  the  workingmen  and  stu- 
dents, he  envies  them  passionately  because  '  they,  not  he, 
intend  to  create  a  new  life;  they  are  broad,  while  he  is  nar- 
row; they  broke  off  from  themselves  and  plunged,  gaily- 
voiced,  into  immensity,  as  one  plunges  from  a  high  beach  into 
the  ocean,  while  he  is  chained  to  himself  and  exhausted.' 
Lieutenant  Babayev  dies  as  senselessly  as  he  lived;  he  falls 
from  the  hand  of  a  girl-revolutionary,  and  not  even  in  the 
agony  of  death  is  his  soul  born." 

Ivanov-Razumnik. 

4.    The  Sadness  of  the  Fields.    Novelette.    (1909.) 

"  There  was  suffering,  beautiful,  deep,  gladsome,  pain- 
ful, silent,  wept  over  in  sleepless  nights,"  thus  the  author 
speaks  of  the  heroine  of  this  novelette,  the  young  beau- 
tiful woman  whose  six  children  died  at  their  birth  and  who 
now  bears  the  seventh  under  her  heart.  She  is  sad,  yet 
there  is  hope  faintly  gleaming;  she  is  composed,  yet 
despair  is  eating  at  the  root  of  her  existence.  Contrasted 
with  it  is  a  sturdy,  active,  healthy  farm  life  tense  with 
sheer  muscular  vigor  and  saturated  with  creative  effort. 
The  question  "  why?  "  is  ringing  throughout  the  entire 


O.  G.  SERGEYEV-TZENSKY  263 

work,  which  is  full  of  plastic  figures  and  motion,  and  yet 
gives  the  impression  of  a  pathetic,  melancholy  song.  The 
figure  of  the  woman  is  drawn  with  much  tenderness  and 
love.  Anna  dies,  yet  life  continues  its  course.  Life  is 
stronger  than  all  our  questions,  suffering,  and  despair. 

This  strangely  moving  story  is  one  of  the  best  produc- 
tions of  modern  Russian  literature. 

5.  Movements.    (1909-1910.) 

A  novelette  where  the  question  of  fate  again  occupies 
the  author.  A  man  is  telling  the  story  of  his  life.  He 
was  healthy,  strong,  gay,  a  hard  worker,  a  builder  of 
life.  He  started  poor,  he  created  for  himself  an  inde- 
pendent and  respected  existence.  His  estate  is  his  pride 
and  joy.  He  is  at  the  summit  of  life.  Yet  a  combina- 
tion of  circumstances  ruins  him  and  leaves  him  practically 
poor.  He  loses  his  good  name.  He  discovers  that  he  is 
ill  and  soon  to  die.    Why  is  it  so?    What  is  his  fault? 

In  the  days  of  his  suffering  he  discovers  a  great  truth 
— that  he  has  been  selfish  all  his  life.  The  return  to  a 
more  altruistic  conception,  a  more  humane  and  intimate 
contact  with  his  fellow  human  beings,  brings  a  ray  of 
light  into  the  misery  of  his  suffering. 

6.  The  Oblique  Helena.    Novelette.     (1916.) 

The  oblique  "  Helena  "  is  a  coal  mine.  A  young  min- 
ing engineer  who  lives  there  in  primitive  and  inhuman 
conditions  becomes  disgusted  with  life  and  decides  to 
commit  suicide.  Just  when  he  is  ready  for  the  fatal  act, 
a  series  of  ordinary  incidents  disturbs  his  mind.  For 
the  first  time  he  realizes  how  much  meaning  there  is  even 
to  the  most  trivial  life.  A  heavy  shock  and  subsequent 
recovery  make  him  feel  life  with  a  new  keenness.    It  is 


264  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

not  abstract  reasoning  that  erases  his  non-acceptance  of 
life.  It  is  the  immediate  realization  of  numerous  bonds 
connecting  us  with  the  actualities  of  existence.  Life  sim- 
ply stretches  its  many  tentacles  and  holds  the  man  fast; 
it  pours  over  him  a  great  variety  of  events  which  he  must 
face  and  of  responsibilities  which  he  must  bear.  Thus 
the  solution  of  the  problem,  "  Why  live?  ",  the  author 
indicates,  is  to  be  found  in  the  very  entanglement  of  life 
itself.  Here,  too,  as  in  Movements,  the  idea  of  life  as  a 
sympathetic  contact  with  other  human  beings,  is  modestly, 
though  firmly  asserted. 

The  Oblique  Helena  is  a  splendid  piece  of  realistic 
literature  devoid  of  all  the  embellishments  that  were  com- 
mon in  Sergeyev-Tzensky's  early  writings.  It  is  full  of 
unusual  vigor,  action,  and  details. 

[Other  works  of  importance:  The  Orchard;  Chief  of  Police 
Deryabin,  etc.] 


M.  P.  ARTZYBASHEV  (1878-) 

Artzybashev  belongs  entirely  to  the  twentieth  century 
and  to  the  modern  city.  He  lacks  the  composure  of  the 
older  Russian  writers.  He  is  full  of  sharp  dissonances,  of 
crude  and  cruel  visions.  A  man  with  an  enormous  narra- 
tive talent  and  an  eager  eye  for  the  tragic,  he  is  haunted 
by  a  few  ideas  which  give  a  strange  fascination  to  most 
of  his  works,  yet  in  a  way  make  them  repulsive.  Artzy- 
bashev is  afraid  of  death,  which  invariably  appears  to  him 
in  the  form  of  disease,  decay,  decomposition  of  flesh.  To 
save  himself  from  the  apparition  of  death,  he  clings  to 
life's  most  striking  manifestations,  which,  to  him,  outside 
of  man,  are  nature  in  its  vigor  and  beauty,  in  man  himself, 
sex.  Artzybashev  became  known  as  the  first  to  speak  of 
sex  passion  in  the  most  naked  manner. 

"  Artzybashev's  '  peculiarity  '  as  a  writer  consists  in  abusing 
that  manner  of  artistic  expression  which  I  would  suggest  call- 
ing the  sexual  manner  of  writing.  This  manner  brings  to  the 
foreground  descriptions  of  the  details  of  sex-life  which  are  un- 
necessary from  the  standpoint  of  artistic  truth  and  which  it 
would  be  better  to  pass  over  with  silence  in  the  interest  of 
mental  hygiene.  .  .  .  Naturally,  with  this  dwelling  upon 
unnecessary  sexual  details,  Artzybashev  combines  a  lack  of 
respect  for  womanhood." 

Dr.  A.  P.  Omeltchenko  (physician). 

Sex-life  in  its  crudest  forms,  sex-desire  in  its  primitive 
appearance,  color  the  works  of  Artzybashev,  yet  they  do 
not  exhaust  his  contents  as  a  writer.  He  is  a  keen  ob- 
server, he  eagerly  responds  to  the  trend  of  sentiment  in 

265 


266  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

surrounding  society,  and  he  has  the  ability  to  thrill  the 
reader  by  his  frankness  and  boldness. 


"  M.  Artzybashev  scrutinizes  the  face  of  nature  with  a  pain- 
fully sharp  gaze.  ...  He  looks  as  if  he  were  seeing  every 
trait,  every  minute  detail  of  living  nature  for  the  first  and  last 
time.  .  .  .  Artzybashev  is  first  a  painter,  then  a  narrator.  He 
writes,  not  in  his  study,  but  in  the  open  air,  he  uses  not  a  pen, 
but  a  brush.  This  is  no  more  a  corner  of  nature  seen  through 
the  prism  of  man's  temperament;  this  is  art  striving  to  become 
nature. 

"  Artzybashev's  landscapes  are  made  by  the  sun,  shot 
through  with  light,  and  saturated  with  air. 

"...  However,  when  the  artist  turns  from  landscape  to 
man,  he  is  unable  to  overcome  technical  difficulties  and  the 
prevailing  sentiment  of  sadness  and  despair.  Here  Artzy- 
bashev scratches  off  with  a  knife  the  picture  of  life,  and  draws 
death. 

".  .  .A  dull,  heavy  tone;  twilight;  a  black  casket,  a  black 
grave,  a  black  hole;  a  nightmare  of  black  and  fire;  a  black 
desert;  a  black  man.  All  this  screens  the  sun,  the  moon,  and 
the  stars.  Black  colors  replace  the  golden  hues,  which  the 
rays  of  the  sun  have  so  tenderly  played  with.  .  .  . 

"...  The  keenest  pleasure  of  a  person  is,  then,  reduced 
to  the  cult  of  the  body." 

V.  LVOV-ROGATCHEVSKY. 


It  is  fair  to  say  that  Artzybashev  belongs  to  the  number 
of  young  writers  who  do  not  shun  sensationalism.  He 
would  not  shrink  from  catching  the  reader  or  holding  him 
spellbound  even  at  the  price  of  too  sharp  contrasts  and 
nerve-racking  scenes.  The  purpose  in  his  works  is  not 
always  concealed.  Sometimes  a  strange  unpleasant 
protest  arises  in  the  cultured  reader  against  Artzybashev's 
"  naturalism,"  which  is  intermixed  with  long  and  trite 
discussions. 


M.  P.  ARTZYBASHEV      -  267 

1.  Stories  of  the  Revolution.    (1904-1907.) 
Scattered  among  Artzybashev's  works  are  a  number  of 

short  stories  which  give  a  good  picture  of  various  mo- 
ments and  happenings  in  the  revolution  of  1 905-1 906. 
The  inevitably  piercing  tones  and  cruel  clashes  of  revolu- 
tionary struggle  fitted  Artzybashev's  artistic  inclinations. 
Scenes  that  appalled  others  had  a  strong  attraction  for 
him.  In  his  Revolutionist,  a,  squad  of  soldiers  flogs  the 
peasants;  his  In  the  Village  pictures  rape  committed  by  a 
punitive  expedition,  the  peasants  kill  their  soldier  enemies 
from  an  ambush;  The  Blood  Stain  describes  the  fight  on 
barricades  and  the  subsequent  cruel  execution  of  revolu- 
tionists by  victorious  officers;  Moujik  and  Landlord,  Re- 
volt, Horror,  Morning  Shadows  belong  to  the  same  series. 
The  revolutionary  stories  are  taken  from  real  life,  and 
give  the  atmosphere  of  the  bloody  strife.  To  the  same 
series  belong  the  following  two: 

2.  The  Human  Tide.    Novel.    (1907.) 

The  scene  of  action  is  the  city  and  port  of  Odessa. 
The  events  are  grouped  around  the  revolutionary  insur- 
rection of  the  masses  in  the  summer  of  1905.  The  re- 
volt of  the  sailors  on  a  battle  cruiser  in  the  harbor  forms 
a  picturesque  chapter.  The  burning  of  the  harbor  ware- 
houses is  described  with  a  masterful  hand.  The  atmos- 
phere of  the  great  upheaval  is,  in  the  main,  truthfully 
reproduced.  So  are  the  types  of  the  philistines  and  the 
characters  of  the  revolutionists. 

3.  The  Workingman  Shevyrev.    Novelette.     (1909.) 
The  hero  is  an  anarchist,  a  terrorist.    He  is  hunted 

by  the  police  and  knows  that  he  will  soon  be  captured. 
The  story  gives  the  events  of  his  last  day  before  he  is 


268  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

surrounded.  Shevyrev,  nominally  a  workingman,  in  re- 
ality a  former  student  and  a  man  of  culture,  evolved  the 
creed  of  hate.  "  I  do  not  think  of  love,"  he  says,  "  I 
can  only  hate.  Why  should  I  love  our  people?  Because 
they  devour  each  other  like  pigs?  because  they  are  so 
miserable,  so  pitiful,  so  weak  and  foolish  that  they  allow 
millions  of  them  to  be  driven  under  the  table?  .  .  . 
I  have  turned  my  hate  towards  those  who  think  them- 
selves the  unassailable  masters  of  life.  ...  I  cannot  live, 
yet  while  dying  I  shall  remind  them  of  their  error;  I 
shall  prove  that  they  are  themselves  defenseless  in  the 
hands  of  men  who  have  courage  and  sense  to  throw  off  the 
spell  of  hypnotism." 

4.   Sanin.     (1907.) 

This  novel  is  a  product  of  the  reaction  felt  by  the  in- 
telligentzia after  the  storms  of  1 90 5?01  Individualism  in- 
stead of  collectivism,  the  cult  of  power  instead  of  the  wor- 
ship of  ideas,  bodily  pleasures  instead  of  self-sacrifice,  are 
accentuated,  if  not  directly  preached,  in  Sanin.  Its  tex- 
ture consists  of  love-episodes  and  discussions  between  a 
group  of  intellectuals  in  a  provincial  town.  The  love  epi- 
sodes are  crude  and  frank  as  to  sex  emotions.  The  dis- 
cussions are  rather  primitive  and  tedious.  The  attention 
attracted  by  the  novel  is  due  to  the  fact  that  it  attacked 
boldly  a  problem  much  discussed  in  intellectual  circles 
just  after  the  revolution.  Its  power  lies  in  its  vivid  de- 
scription of  characters,  in  many  scenes  full  of  action,  and 
in  a  strongly  felt  hunger  for  life. 

"  Sanin  [the  main  hero]  does  not  understand  human  suf- 
ferings and  sorrow,  he  cannot  experience  them  in  sympathy 
with  others,  and  he  would  not  hold  his  lust  in  bounds  even 
if  it  should  be  the  cause  of  others'  misfortune.    Not  one  fea- 


M.  P.  ARTZYBASHEV  269 

ture  of  a  new  man  is  contained  in  such  a  nature.  Sanins  are 
as  old  as  the  old  regime  of  which  they  are  a  product.  .  .  . 
They  are  those  who,  being  ejected  from  their  own  social  class, 
■ — Sanin  is  the  last  of  a  noble  family — do  not  become  mem- 
bers of  another  class  or  another  stable  group.  They  are  social 
parasites." 

Dr.  A.  P.  Omeltchenko. 

"  Bright  succulent  colors,  breathing  the  vibration  of  joy  and 
strength,  alternate  with  a  pale  mournful  sheen,  boresome 
scraggy  words,  which  importunately  stick  to  you.  It  seems 
to  the  reader  that  the  life  of  the  people  described  by  the  author 
is  revolving,  as  it  were,  in  two  different  worlds.  One  world 
is  limited,  suffocating,  and  ugly;  here  people  cripple  each  other 
and  inflict  mortal  wounds ;  whereas,  near  by,  a  vast  and  friendly 
world  lies  outstretched,  a  world  radiant  with  all  the  joys  of 
life,  a  world  alluring  through  the  powerful  voices  of  blood, 
instincts,  heart." 

L.  Voitolovsky. 

5.    The  Woman  That  Stood  Between.    Novel.    (1915.) 

Here  Artzybashev  attempted  to  show  the  other  side  of 
unrestricted  sex-passion.  A  woman  is  described,  a  clean, 
healthy,  and  beautiful,  though  by  no  means  exceptional 
young  woman,  destined  by  nature  to  be  a  mother  and 
a  friend.  Love-experiences  with  self-seeking  men  who 
never  cared  for  the  soul  or  the  personality  in  the  object 
of  their  jdesire,  make  her  a  fiend  of  passion,  a  soulless, 
dangerous,  and  desperate  enemy  of  human  society. 
Artzybashev 's  manner  is  much  more  refined  in  this  than 
in  his  earlier  works. 

[Other  works  of  importance:  The  Death  of  Lande;  The  Wife; 
The  Millionaire ;  Sub-Lieutenant  Gololobov,  and  many  other 
short  stories ;  The  Breaking  Point,  a  novel ;  Jealousy,  a  play.] 


EVGENY  CHIRIKOV  (1864-) 

Notwithstanding  significant  changes  in  the  social  and 
economic  structure  of  Russia  towards  the  beginning  of 
the  twentieth  century,  the  country  as  a  whole  remained 
provincial.  Industrial  centers  were  increasing,  yet  the 
prevailing  type  was  a  small  archaic  town.  Political 
parties  were  forming  in  the  capitals  and  in  the  leading 
cities,  yet  the  bulk  of  Russia  remained  untouched.  In- 
tellectual unrest  was  rapidly  spreading,  yet  the  average 
Russian  citizen  (or  inhabitant  as  he  was  termed  in  the 
official  language)  was  rather  indolent  and  bored.  The 
town  population,  what  may  be  called,  in  a  sense,  the  cul- 
tured stratum  of  the  Russian  nation,  led  a  colorless, 
spiritless  existence.  The  government  officials  were  con- 
fined to  deadening  routine  under  a  system  of  strict  sub- 
ordination. The  professional  man,  after  leaving  his  Alma 
Mater,  ordinarily  succumbed  to  the  apathy  of  his  sur- 
roundings, though  never  forgetting  the  dreams  and  aspira- 
tions of  his  youth.  The  business  man,  not  yet  stirred  by 
the  enterprising  spirit  of  modern  industrialism,  continued 
his  crude  work  in  a  lazy,  monotonous  fashion.  Altogether, 
it  was  a  narrow,  stagnant,  listless  existence,  where  gossip, 
cards,  drinking,  petty  jealousies,  and  paltry  ambitions 
took  the  place  of  events.  Only  at  times,  a  real  intellec- 
tual, a  radical  student,  a  former  revolutionary,  a  political 
refugee  would  be  thrown  into  the  swamp  of  provincial 
lassitude.  His  clashes  with  the  "  aborigines,"  his  futile 
attempts  to  mold  native  thought  according  to  modern 
ideas,  his  suffering  and  despair,  would,  then,  represent  a 
veritable  tragedy. 

370 


EVGENY  CHIRIKOV  271 

Evgeny  Chirikov  is  the  man  who  described  provincial 
Russia  in  its  true  colors.  Born  and  bred  in  the  heart 
of  the  Eastern  provinces,  he  knew  provincial  Russia  as 
few  of  his  colleagues.  It  was  the  very  air  he  breathed  till 
late  in  his  life.  Through  him,  perhaps,  more  than  through 
many  a  realist,  Russia  learned  to  know  herself. 

Chirikov  is  possessed  of  an  easy  style,  an  attractive 
conversational  mode  of  writing,  a  sense  of  unobtrusive 
humor,  a  tolerant  attitude  to  human  weaknesses,  and  a 
vague,  though  sincere,  idealism.  Chirikov  is  not  the 
groping  kind  of  a  writer.  He  never  tries  to  grasp  the  new, 
the  social  and  political  phenomena  which  are  in  the  mak- 
ing. His  is  not  the  task  to  express  very  subtle  move- 
ments of  the  human  soul.  He  takes  known  types,  char- 
acteristics that  are  widespread,  forms  of  life  that  have 
been  crystallized  and  are  easy  to  observe.  Moreover,  he 
does  not  seek  for  the  extraordinary.  His  material  is  the 
ordinary  life  of  ordinary  people.  "  Their  life  runs,  day 
in  and  day  out,  monotonous,  boresome  like  a  rainy  eve- 
ning when  everything  is  wet,  gray,  and  gloomy.  It  is  a 
colorless  and  tiresome  existence.  It  is  like  turning  the 
pages  of  a  cook-book.  To-day  soup  and  cutlets,  to- 
morrow borshch  and  cutlets,  and  this  is  the  only  change." 
Chirikov's  stories  and  plays  would  appear  monotonous 
if  not  for  his  vividness,  alertness,  and  unusual  skill  in 
drawing  characters  and  reproducing  situations  and  con- 
versations. 

Chirikov  is  not  what  one  may  call  a  great  writer.  Yet 
he  has  been  very  popular  among  intellectual  Russians 
during  the  last  twenty  years  as  a  truthful  narrator,  a  critic 
of  Russian  backwardness,  and  an  inexhaustible  source 
of  information  concerning  provincial  Russia.  Somehow, 
Chirikov  becomes  a  friend  to  those  who  read  him.    It  is 


272  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

perhaps  his  smile,  perhaps  his  love  for  youth  and  youth- 
ful endeavor.  He  has  the  peculiar  ability  of  the  Russian 
writer  to  "  laugh  through  tears."  He  is  in  sympathy  with 
his  unhappy  heroes,  giving  utterance  to  their  longing  for 
a  sounder  and  more  human  life,  yet  never  condemning 
them  for  inability  to  break  their  chains.  He  loves  and  de- 
scribes children  with  a  unique  tenderness. 

To  the  foreigner,  Chirikov  ought  to  be  most  welcome 
as  a  man  reproducing  the  original  Russian  town-life  with 
almost  photographic  accuracy. 

Chirikov's  stories,  novels,  and  plays  are  very  numerous. 
It  is,  perhaps,  advisable  to  make  a  selection  according  to 
the  main  themes. 

i.    The  Students  Have  Come.    A  story.    (1897.) 

The  Foreigners.    A  novelette.    (1899.) 

The  Prodigal  Son.    A  story.    (1899.) 

On  Bail.  A  story.  (1904.) 
In  each  of  these  works,  one  or  several  radical  intellec- 
tuals happen  to  live  in  a  provincial  town.  In  The  Stu- 
dents Have  Come,  two  university  boys,  spending  their 
vacation  in  the  native  town,  are  trying  to  develop  the  con- 
sciousness of  their  provincial  friends.  In  The  Foreigners, 
a  group  of  revolutionary  intellectuals  are  founding  a  local 
progressive  paper.  In  The  Prodigal  Son  and  On  Bail,  a 
young  man,  formerly  active  in  revolutionary  movements, 
comes  home  to  his  parents  after  prison  and  wanderings. 
In  each  case,  the  hopes  of  the  newcomers  are  frustrated. 
Prejudices,  archaic  conceptions  of  decency,  intrigues, 
ambitions  of  local  officials,  all  the  petrified  forms  of  life, 
crush  the  attempts  at  improvement.  Even  the  hope  of 
living  peacefully  under  a  father's  roof  is  made  impossible 
through  incessant  lecturing  and  nagging.    The  figures  of 


EVGENY  CHIRIKOV  273 

former  idealists  now  settled  down  and  absorbed  in  the 
mire  of  contentment,  figures  to  be  met  in  many  other 
of  Chirikov's  sketches,  are  quite  appalling. 

2.   Faust.    A  story.    (1900.) 

In  the  Rear-House.  A  two-act  play.  (1902.) 
Ivan  Mir onytch.  A  four-act  play.  (1905.) 
A  woman's  soul  enmeshed  in  the  trivialities  of  philis- 
tine  existence  and  longing  for  something  beautiful  and 
meaningful,  is  the  subject  which  recurs  in  these  as  in  many 
other  of  Chirikov's  productions.  In  drawing  the  women 
prisoners  of  provincial  somnolence,  the  author  is  particu- 
larly eloquent  and  sympathetic.  To  the  heroine  of  Faust, 
life  in  her  youth  "  seemed  big,  extending  far  away  to 
limitless  horizons;  it  was  wrapt  in  luring  blue  mists, 
attractive  in  infinite  variety,  and  full  of  mystery  and 
promise."  Her  soul  was  stirred  with  "  a  vague  expecta- 
tion of  happiness,  perhaps  the  happiness  of  triumphant 
love."  Yet  time  passed,  the  horizons  became  narrower. 
"  Everybody  lives  in  the  same  way.  They  are  bored, 
they  gossip,  they  talk  of  apartments  and  positions,  they 
play  cards,  they  raise  children,  and  they  complain,  the 
husbands  to  their  wives,  the  wives  to  their  husbands.  .  .  . 
There  is  no  triumphant  love.  There  is  triumphant  vul- 
garity, meanness,  and  boredom."  The  heroine  of  The 
Rear-House  exclaims:  "If  I  could  only  go  away,  run 
away  from  this  terrible  life!  .  .  .  I  do  not  want  it  any 
more.  I  cannot  stand  it!  "  In  Ivan  Mir  onytch  a  seem- 
ingly happy  family-life  in  the  narrow  cage  of  sluggish 
officialdom  is  interrupted  by  the  wife's  cry  of  anguish:  "  I 
am  sinking.  ...  I  wish  to  live  and  there  is  nothing  to 
live  with!  .  .  .  You  have  eaten  out  half  the  life  from 
my  soul.    I  loathe  your  schedule!  " 


274  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

3.  Tanya's  Happiness.    A  story.    (1899.) 
The  Birthday  Child.    A  novelette.     (1900.) 
Marka  of  the  Pits.    A  novelette.     (1904.) 

Chirikov  draws  here  the  figures  of  poor  girls  who  by 
force  of  circumstances  became  street-walkers.  The  au- 
thor shows  that  fundamentally  they  are  healthy  human 
beings.  Marka  of  the  Pits  is  a  woman  of  special  gifts 
who  fought  bravely  for  purity  and  love.  She  has  the 
physical  vigor,  the  strength  of  character,  and  the  love  of 
freedom  which  mark  only  the  chosen.  She  succumbs,  as 
many  others,  to  poverty  in  the  midst  of  an  unorganized 
society  that  can  offer  no  protection.  Marka  of  the  Pits 
is  one  of  the  most  colorful  pieces  of  Chirikov's  writings. 

4.  Invalids.    A  story.    (1897.) 

The  House  of  the  Kochergins.  A  play.  (1910.) 
The  intellectual  conflict  between  the  older  and  the 
younger  generation  of  Russian  radicals  is  the  subject  of 
these  works.  In  both,  an  old-time  fighter  for  freedom 
returns  home  after  many  years  of  political  exile  only  to 
find  that  the  programs,  the  tactics,  and  the  aspirations  of 
the  younger  revolutionaries  differ  radically  from  former 
faiths  and  methods.  The  old  men  seem  antiquated  and 
are  pushed  aside  with  the  brutality  of  heartless  youth. 

5.  In  a  Dale  among  Mountains.    A  story.    (1899.) 

A  humorous  story  presenting  the  ring  of  local  official 
lawlessness  which  offers  stubborn  resistance  to  any  pro- 
test or  attempt  at  improvement,  however  loyal.  The 
ring  closes  its  deadly  grip  over  any  alien  body  which 
disturbs  the  peace  of  unhampered  arbitrary  and  selfish 
administration. 


EVGENY  CHIRIKOV  275 

6.  Insurrectionists,    A  novelette.     (1906.) 
The  Peasants.    A  four-act  play.     (1906.) 

Here  Chirikov  deals  with  the  agrarian  movement  of  the 
Russian  peasantry  in  the  abortive  revolution  of  1905- 
1906.  The  pictures  and  events  are  those  that  are  most 
typical  in  that  vast  popular  movement.  Both  pieces  al- 
most approach  an  eyewitness  account  of  actual  events  in 
one  or  two  of  the  numberless  Russian  villages.  The  char- 
acters of  the  landlords,  the  officials,  and  the  peasants  are 
well  known  and  stereotyped.  The  causes  of  the  move- 
ment are  laid  bare  with  a  clever  hand. 

7.  The  Jews.    A  play.    (1905.) 

A  typical  pogrom  in  a  Jewish  town  is  here  presented. 
Attention  is  centered  on  a  Jewish  family  of  patriarchal 
parents,  a  beautiful  innocent  daughter,  and  a  revolution- 
ary son.  The  pogroms  bring  ruin  and  death  to  the  un- 
fortunate family. 

8.  Tarchanov's  Life.    (1911-1913.) 

Volume  I.    Youth. 

Volume  II.    Exile. 

Volume  III.  Return. 
A  story  of  love  and  youth  interwoven  with  the  political 
movements  in  Russia  at  the  end  of  the  century  and 
thrown  against  a  background  of  Russian  provincial  life. 
The  novel  is  written  in  the  first  person  and  contains  some 
autobiographical  material.  It  narrates  the  life  of  a  young 
Russian  from  the  moment  he  passes  his  college  entrance 
examination  to  the  time  he  reaches  his  full  growth  and 
occupies  a  position  in  the  ranks  of  constructive  workers. 
The  novel  is  typical  of  a  young  Russian  radical  of  the 
middle-class  and  is  full  of  details  of  everyday  Russia. 


276  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

9.   War  Echoes.    Sketches.     (191 6.) 

"  There  are  towns  in  Russia  whose  existence  is  known 
only  to  Our  Lord  and  the  ispravnik  (county  chief  of 
police).  They  are  mentioned  neither  in  history,  nor  in 
geography,  and  it  is  not  known  who  was  their  inventor. 
Nothing  is  spoken  about  them  and  nothing  is  written." 
Into  such  a  town  Chirikov  takes  us  at  the  beginning  of 
the  world  war  and  shows  us  a  series  of  transformations 
wrought  in  local  conditions  and  habit  by  the  great  storm. 
The  second  part  gives  pictures  of  trench-life. 

[Other  interesting  works  of  Chirikov  are  The  Friends  of  the 
Press,  a  play;  The  Legend  of  the  Old  Castle;  The  Prison  of 
Human  Passions,  and  a  number  of  short  sketches.] 


V.  ROPSHIN  (BORIS  SAVINKOV) 

From  the  ranks  of  revolutionary  terrorists  came  Boris 
Savinkov,  a  member  of  the  Socialist-Revolutionary  party, 
an  active  participant  in  many  terrorist  attempts  on  the 
life  of  high  Russian  officials,  and  one  of  the  leaders  of 
his  party.  Under  the  name  of  Ropshin,  he  came  to  tell 
in  a  strong  and  truthful  language  of  the  tragedies  in- 
evitably connected  with  the  work  of  hunting  and  killing 
human  beings  as  a  revolutionary  profession.  Perhaps  he 
was  somewhat  disappointed  in  the  results  of  his  own 
activities  and  in  the  revolution  as  a  whole.  Perhaps  his 
meditations  reflect  a  state  of  reaction  after  the  upheavals 
of  1 905-1 906.  Yet  his  sincerity  was  beyond  doubt.  And 
he  embodied  his  thoughts  in  living  images  that  were  con- 
vincing. 

The  sensation  among  Russian  intellectuals  was  im- 
mense. A  flood  of  heated  discussion  followed.  Ad- 
herents and  opponents  of  revolutionary  terrorism  inter- 
preted Ropshin's  writings  from  various  angles.  Most  of 
them,  however,  overlooked  the  fundamental  fact  that  his 
works  were  works  of  fiction  and  that  their  merits  lay 
only  in  their  being  an  adequate  presentation  of  the  human 
soul  under  certain  conditions.  Now  that  the  discussion 
has  subsided  and  it  is  possible  to  view  the  matter  from 
an  historic  standpoint,  it  is  clear  that  Ropshin  contributed 
human  documents  of  considerable  importance.  No  stu- 
dent of  the  Russian  revolutionary  movement  should  fail 
to  read  them. 

Ropshin  is  a  talented  writer.    He  is  influenced  by  the 

277 


278  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

great  masters,  particularly  by  Tolstoi,  but  he  is  not  an 
imitator.  His  works  have  literary  value  aside  from  their 
contents. 

i.    The  Pale  Horse.    Novelette.    (1909.) 

2.    What  Never  Happened.    Novel.     (191 2.) 

When  a  man  shatters  all  his  relations  with  the  rest  of 
humanity  and  devotes  himself  entirely  to  the  work  of 
killing  human  beings,  strange  transformations  must  take 
place  in  his  soul.  No  matter  how  lofty  the  ideal  he  fights 
for,  no  matter  how  unselfish  the  revolutionist  is  (there 
can  be  no  common  selfishness  in  a  man  who  knows  that 
his  activities  must  unavoidably  culminate  in  his  death), 
he  must  soon  begin  to  look  at  life  from  angles  hitherto 
unknown  to  him.  He  will  either  harden  and  turn  into  a 
"  master  of  the  red  guild  "  to  whom  life  in  general  has 
no  value,  or  he  will  begin  to  question  his  right  to  take 
human  lives.  The  former  is  the  case  with  George,  the 
hero  of  The  Pale  Horse;  the  latter  is  personified  in  Bolo- 
tov,  the  main  figure  of  What  Never  Happened, 

"  George  is  the  head  of  a  terrorist  group,  the  organizer  and 
executor  of  terroristic  assassinations.  His  life  is  one  continu- 
ous, unrelenting  struggle,  the  struggle  of  beasts:  either  he  will 
kill,  or  he  will  be  killed.  An  iron  hand,  a  keen  eye,  an  unusual 
presence  of  mind,  an  indomitable  will  are  his  weapons.  When 
he  wins  a  victory,  he  feels  himself  the  incarnation  of  an  ele- 
mental, apocalyptic,  revenging  power,  elevated  high  above  the 
rest  of  mankind.  This  gives  him  joy,  triumph,  a  sensation  of 
life's  exuberance.  In  the  intoxication  of  such  a  struggle,  there 
is  no  place  for  self-analysis.  George  passes  calmly  by  all 
theoretical  discussions.  He  only  cares  for  practical  results. 
What  is  beyond  action  is  mere  words  to  him.  He  loves  nobody. 
He  cares  for  nobody.  He  is  indifferent  to  the  spiritual  life  of 
men,  their  sufferings  and  gropings.  This  defect  in  instincts, 
however,  making  George  a  perfect  instrument  of  terror,  car- 


V.  ROPSHIN  279 

ries  with  it  its  own  negation.  If  people  are  only  machines,  if 
there  is  no  love  to  bind  human  beings  together,  what  place 
remains  for  ideologies  that  gave  birth  to  revolutionary  move- 
ments and  to  terrorism  itself?  " 

S.  Adrianov. 

It  must  be  noted  that  investigations  conducted  by  the 
Socialist- Revolutionary  party  in  1 910-19 11  as  to  the  ac- 
tivities of  the  terrorist  groups,  revealed  the  existence  of 
types  similar  to  George  of  The  Pale  Horse,  although  they 
were  not  the  rule.  There  were  many  terrorists  who  could 
say  with  Vanya,  another  figure  in  The  Pale  Horse:  "  We 
must  go  through  the  torture  of  crucifixion;  out  of  love  and 
for  the  sake  of  love  we  must  determine  upon  the  worst. 
But  only,  only  out  of  love  and  for  the  sake  of  love." 

A  far  more  frequent  type  was  the  revolutionist  who 
practised  terror  yet  was  full  of  doubt  and  query.  Such 
is  Bolotov  of  What  Never  Happened. 

"  Bolotov  is  a  veritable  Hamlet  whom  fate  has  thrown  into 
the  ranks  of  fighters  for  freedom.  He  is  perhaps  more  of  a 
Hamlet  than  his  prototype  himself.  True,  his  Hamletism 
does  not  prevent  him  from  acting  in  a  very  decisive  manner. 
But  just  when  he  acts,  the  conflict  between  reason  and  will 
becomes  manifest.  His  will  prompts  him  to  fight,  his  fight 
brings  him  to  acts  of  violence,  and  the  acts  of  violence  arouse 
in  his  mind  the  question,  '  Can  violence  be  justified,  and  if  so, 
what  is  its  justification?  '  This  question  haunts  Bolotov,  it 
follows  him  to  the  barricades,  to  a  revolutionary  congress,  to 
terroristic  attempts.  He  is  so  absorbed  in  this  question  that 
everything  outside  of  it  seems  to  him  superfluous  and  bore- 
some  nonsense.  .  .  .  Whatever  our  personal  conception,  such 
experiences  deserve  a  careful  and,  let  me  say  frankly,  a  re- 
spectful attitude.  Those  experiences  are  no  phrase  and  no 
invention,  they  are  a  tragedy,  one  of  those  tragedies  which 
'  purify '  the  spectator  (to  use  a  well-known  expression  of 
Aristotle)  and  which  make  us  believe  in  the  inherent  beauty, 


280  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

if  not  of  human  nature  as  a  whole,  at  least  of  certain  por- 
tions of  mankind." 

G.  V.  Plekhanov. 

What  Never  Happened  contains  many  pictures  of 
mass-movement,  such  as  the  record  of  the  Moscow  revolt 
in  December,  1905,  one  of  the  best  in  the  Russian  lan- 
guage, and  many  descriptions  of  revolutionary  party 
activities.  The  characters  of  the  revolutionaries  are 
vivid  and  true  to  life. 


ALEXEY  REMIZOV  (1877-) 

A  shocking  world.  Hideous  details.  Men  and  women 
seem  ordinary  human  beings,  yet  each  of  them  has  a  little 
mean  devil  in  his  brain.  Every  man  and  woman  is  com- 
mitting or  about  to  commit  some  unclean  act.  They  are 
no  criminals,  yet  a  fetid  ichor  runs  through  their  veins, 
and  they  experience  malicious  joy  when  they  do  vile  mis- 
chief. 

Such  are  the  characters  in  Alexey  Remizov's  stories. 
Such  is,  in  his  perception,  the  population  of  his  native 
land.  A  foul  smell  rises  from  the  places  he  describes, 
an  odor  of  decaying  corpses,  of  suppurating  ulcers,  of 
ugly  diseases,  of  sickening  offal.  A  slimy  substance  is 
creeping  through  the  land,  through  habitations  of  men, 
through  their  very  souls,  a  heavy  substance  full  of  venom, 
license,  rot,  loathsome  vermin,  uncanny  abomination. 
"  A  catalogue  of  turpitude,"  somebody  called  Remizov's 
stories. 

His  people  are  bored  and  intrinsically  unhappy.  Yet 
their  conduct  cannot  be  blamed  on  conditions  alone. 
They  have  sinister  instincts.  They  are  cruel.  They  are 
drunken.  They  use  the  basest  language.  They  indulge 
in  vicious  obscenity.  They  are  sensuous  in  petty  ways. 
They  beat  each  other,  they  cripple  the  weak,  they  kiss  the 
dust  from  the  boots  of  the  strong,  they  torture  animals, 
they  see  ghosts,  they  are  intermixed  with  demons,  witches, 
monsters,  and  all  the  filthy  creatures  of  an  unhealthy 
imagination.  Altogether  it  is  a  world  in  which  every  evil 
desire  is  given  free  swing,  and  the  inhabitants  would  ap- 

281 


282  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

pear  insane  if  they  did  not  bear  such  a  striking  resem- 
blance to  the  people  we  see  every  day  in  the  ordinary 
pursuits  of  life. 

It  is  this  mixture  of  almost  fantastic  debasement  with 
the  most  usual  features  of  human  character  and  occupa- 
tion that  makes  Remizov's  writings  unique  in  Russian 
literature.    Somehow  one  feels  that  he  is  not  even  exag- 
gerating.   He  has  only  a  keener  eye  for  the  ugly  facts  of 
life  as  they  occur  every  day.     He  is  appalled  by  the 
amount  of  real  Russian,  good-humored,  matter-of-fact 
degradation,  physical  and  mental,  which  is  spread  in 
every  realm  of  life.    His  most  favored  image  is  a  dragon, 
an  unclean  mystic  serpent,  wriggling  slowly  over  the  land. 
One  must  not  forget  that  the  time  he  appeared  in  litera- 
ture was  the  time  of  Rasputins  and  Azovs,  the  time  of 
cruel  agrarian  revolts  accompanied  by  unwarranted  atroc- 
ities, the  time  of  Black  Hundred  outrages,  punitive  ex- 
peditions, scaffolds  erected  before  dawn,  summary  shoot- 
ings and  pogroms.    It  is  evident  that  most  of  his  revolting 
details  Remizov  collected  from  news  items  in  the  daily 
press.    One  of  his  characters  thus  summarizes  his  views 
on  Russia  in  the  watchful  hours  of  unhappy  nights.    "  In- 
juries, violence,  ruin,  overcrowding,  want,  robbery,  venal- 
ity, murder,  disorder,  and  lawlessness, — this  is  the  Russian 
land.     Unbalanced,  unfriendly  to  each  other,  erratic  in 
their  ways,  incoherent  and  inarticulate,  eternally  silent, — 
this  is  the  Russian  people.    Who  will  save  the  Russian 
land,  stripped,  burned  out,  trampled  bare,  corroded,  and 
devastated  as  it  is?    Who  will  break  the  untruth?    Who 
will  allay  the  hatred?     Where  are  the  straight,  fearless 
thoughts,  the  untrembling  heart?  "    Still,  it  must  be  noted 
that  the  scope  of  Remizov's  pictures  is  much  broader 
than  mere  social  and  political  influences  on  human  con- 


ALEXEY  REMIZOV  283 

duct.    His  scrutiny  is  directed  into  the  souls  of  men.    And 
it  is  there  that  he  sees  his  dreadful  visions. 

In  his  effort  to  convey  an  adequate  impression,  Remizov 
often  resorts  to  the  fantastic.  Devils,  hobgoblins,  all 
sorts  of  witchcraft,  all  manner  of  unnatural  occurrences 
take  place  in  his  stories  side  by  side  with  the  facts  of 
real  life.  It  is  sometimes  difficult  to  discern  whether  the 
writer  introduces  these  strange  phenomena  as  part  of  the' 
experiences  of  his  persons,  or  gives  them  as  an  element 
of  his  own  visions.  Still,  he  is  one  of  the  staunchest  real- 
ists in  modern  Russian  literature.  He  knows  a  wealth  of 
facts  about  the  actual  people  in  every  walk  of  life.  He 
knows  such  details  as  hardly  any  other  man  of  letters 
has  had  an  occasion  to  observe.  He  presents  all  this 
with  unusual  skill  and  in  sharp  outlines  that  impress 
themselves  irresistibly  on  the  mind  of  the  reader.  He 
seems  to  be  grinning  inwardly  while  unloading  his  mass 
of  palpitating,  glaring  illuminated  human  material.  He 
has  done  his  work  well,  he  seems  to  think.  In  fact,  he 
came  into  the  closest  possible  contact  with  the  people.  He 
acquired  a  vast  knowledge  of  the  people's  tales,  songs, 
conjurations,  plays,  beliefs,  superstitions.  He  studied  the 
people's  toys,  works  of  art,  incarnations  of  the  popular 
imagination.  He  drank  from  the  fresh  well  of  the  people's 
mythology  and  mysticism,  and  the  fantastic  creations  of 
the  people's  mind  became  almost  a  reality  to  him. 

All  this  he  embodies  in  his  writings  with  relentless 
energy.  He  overwhelms  by  the  number  and  variety  of  his 
facts.  He  makes  one  tired.  Yet  this  very  accumulation 
of  colorful  particulars  creates  the  impression  desired,  the 
impression  of  a  dreadful  world. 

Remizov  seems  to  be  objective.  Yet  through  all  his 
cruel  pages  a  wounded  soul  is  crying  without  words. 


284  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

Remizov  is  sick  of  life.  Remizov  is  crushed  by  the  hor- 
rors of  life.  It  were  easier  if  life  were  a  tragedy.  He 
might  have  found  solace  in  the  grandeur  of  conflicting 
forces.  But  life  to  him  is  abominable  nonsense.  Life  is 
one  protracted,  agonizing  nausea.  And  the  miserable 
sadness  of  it  all  lingers  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart. 

Sometimes  he  tries  to  be  humorous.  It  seems  as  if  a 
smile  could  give  him  relief.  But  he  cannot  detach  him- 
self from  his  world.  He  cannot  be  aloof.  That's  why 
his  smile  is  more  of  a  grin.  He  cannot  even  be  funny. 
He  is  grotesque.  He  makes  the  grimaces  of  a  clown. 
At  times  he  looks  as  if  he  were  a  madman.  There  is 
no  end  to  the  twists  of  his  caprices.  Some  of  his  pages 
would  sound  like  a  conscious  mocking  exaggeration  if 
not  for  the  repugnant  horror  that  creeps  through  them. 
Altogether,  Remizov's  form  is  admirably  suited  to  ex- 
press just  that  perception  of  life  which  must  drive  a 
man  into  complete  and  incurable  despair. 

Just  to  catch  his  breath,  Remizov  sometimes  leaves  his 
cultured  circles  and  goes  back  to  folklore.  Then  he 
creates  tales  in  the  strain  and  in  the  language  of  the 
primitive  people.  It  would  be  proper  to  call  them  "  tales 
of  our  times,"  because  they  combine  the  folklore  with 
a  modern  conception  of  things.  Remizov  also  writes  stories 
for  children, — very  simple,  very  graceful,  very  sincere. 
Yet  the  careful  reader  will  even  here  perceive  the  echoes 
of  his  dread  of  life.  The  same  crooked  nasty  demons  are 
playing  their  petty  games  everywhere. 

Remizov  is  one  of  the  unhappiest  of  modern  Russian 
authors.  Not  one  of  the  solutions  offered  by  his  fellow- 
artists  comforts  him.  He  is  not  religious  in  the  higher 
sense  of  the  word.  He  is  close  to  the  plain  rugged  men 
who  believe,  pray,  worship,  go  to  church,  light  a  candle 


ALEXEY  REMIZOV  285 

before  the  holy  images,  and  drink  before  and  after.  He 
often  feels  like  one  of  them.  But  he  is  only  in  the  grip 
of  religious  ceremonies  without  the  elevation  of  real  faith. 
In  his  worst  moments  he  is  inclined  to  mock  even  at  God. 
These  are,  perhaps,  the  most  painful  spasms  in  the  gray 
torture  of  his  despair. 

And  no  aid.    And  no  way  out. 

Alexey  Remizov  is,  perhaps,  the  greatest  master  of  the 
Russian  language  in  the  present  generation  of  writers. 
His  vocabulary  of  popular  expressions  is  amazing.  His 
ability  to  adapt  words  to  ideas  is  unsurpassed.  He  gives 
the  impression  of  using  naked  words.  His  language  is 
almost  perplexing.  With  all  this,  he  is  not  posing.  He  is 
genuine.  A  strange,  unhealthy  flower  in  the  swamp  of 
Russian  life. 

1.  Sisters  in  Christ.    Novelette.    (1910.) 

A  large  tenement  house  in  a  poor  section  of  Peters- 
burg. Flats  and  rooms  packed  with  clerks,  students,  pro- 
fessional folk,  and  some  of  the  working-class.  Remizov 
goes  from  story  to  story,  from  door  to  door  describing 
the  inhabitants.  In  a  few  lines,  he  condenses  the  whole 
life  of  a  person.  And  the  life  is  always  a  hideous  misery. 
As  the  descriptions  grow  in  number  and  particulars,  the 
reader  is  seized  with  fear.  It  seems  as  if  a  god  with  the 
qualities  of  a  monkey  had  decided  to  distort  the  face  of 
life,  making  it  a  mockery  at  harmony,  happiness,  justice, 

2.  The  Fifth  Affliction.    Novelette.     (191 2.) 

A  provincial  town.  The  portraits  of  all  the  notables 
are  drawn  with  uncanny  penetration.  The  elements  of 
a  society  devoid  of  a  higher  human  interest  are  presented 
with  such  clairvoyance  as  to  make  them  look  almost 


286  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

fantastic.  Against  this  background  is  thrown  the  figure 
of  a  strong  man  longing  for  beauty  and  right.  His  protest 
against  surrounding  forces  is  silent  but  relentless.  It  is 
a  gigantic  struggle  of  one  reticent  man  against  the  evil  of 
a  world  absorbing  even  his  own  wife  and  children.  In  the 
tragic  features  of  the  hero,  it  is  easy  to  recognize  the 
author  himself. 

3.  Tales.    (1907-1916.) 

4.  Stories  for  Children. 

Some  of  Remizov's  stories  for  children  were  published 
in  two  volumes  as  early  as  1907;  others  are  contained  in 
numerous  periodicals  and  almanacs.  Remizov's  tales  in- 
clude, besides  imitations  of  folklore,  also  plain  stories 
and  observations  of  a  realistic  nature. 


V.  V.  MUJZHEL  (1880-) 

Mujzhel  is  stern  and  gloomy.  A  son  of  a  small  village 
in  northern  Russia,  he  had  a  taste  of  the  real  life  of  the 
real  people,  and  what  he  tells  would  seem  revenge  if  his 
objectivity  were  not  clearly  evident.  He  is  primarily  con- 
cerned with  the  life  of  the  modern  village,  and  his  stories 
sometimes  border  on  ethnographic  descriptions.  A  man 
of  modern  times,  he  can  no  more  idealize  the  rural  insti- 
tutions and  foundations  as  did  the  Narodniki,  at  the  same 
time  he  has  no  contempt  for  the  peasant.  He  seems  to 
say,  "  Here  he  is,  the  cornerstone  of  Russian  economic 
structure,  the  backbone  of  the  nation;  it  is  not  my  fault, 
and  it  is  not  his  fault,  if  he  is  so  poor,  dismal,  and  de- 
graded." 

Mujzhel  is  as  slow  and  monotonous  as  the  progress  of  a 
loaded  wagon  over  the  muddy  Russian  roads.  Not  a 
sparkle,  not  a  smile.  Even  nature  rarely  distracts  his 
attention  from  his  drab,  uncanny  moujiks.  With  the 
same  heavy  solemnity,  he  tells  of  customs  and  crimes, 
village  amusements  and  debasement.  What  he  writes  is 
not  fiction,  it  is  horror.  One  cannot  love  Mujzhel.  Yet 
one  must  admit  that  what  he  tells  is  true.  Somehow,  the 
crudeness  of  his  style  goes  well  with  the  crudeness  of  his 
subjects.  Artistic  finish  would  seem  incompatible  with 
abysmal  poverty,  brutishness,  coarseness,  hatred,  and 
rage.  Mujzhel  does  not  want  to  be  attractive.  He  pro- 
ceeds to  heap  detail  upon  detail,  to  link  event  with  event 
till  the  reader  is  overwhelmed  and  crushed.  All  the  time, 
the  author  remains  composed,  giving  no  hint  as  to  his  own 
feelings. 

287 


288  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

Mujzhel  started  his  literary  career  in  1904,  when  revolt, 
prison,  and  exile  were  everyday  occurrences  in  Russia. 
This  phase  of  Russian  life  is  also  presented  by  Mujzhel 
and  with  the  same  nerve-racking  monotony.  Altogether 
he  gives  the  impression  of  being  himself  the  most  un- 
comfortable of  modern  writers,  reflecting,  as  he  does,  the 
lack  of  harmony  and  comfort  throughout  the  vast  plains 
of  Russia.  There  is  the  quality  of  an  anatomist  in  Muj- 
zhePs  work:  with  a  black  scalpel  he  dissects  hideous 
growths,  shirking  before  no  depravity.  He  is  cruel,  yet 
it  is  the  cruelty  of  facts,  not  the  cruelty  of  his  nature. 
Russians  were  compelled  to  read  him  as  they  were  com- 
pelled to  live  under  the  old  regime.  He  was  their  own, 
part  of  their  natural  experiences. 

1.  A  Peasant's  Death.    A  story.    (1905.) 

Cruel  is  the  life  of  a  peasant,  cruel  his  death,  yet  the 
man  is  no  savage.  He  has  intelligence.  He  has  a  strong 
longing  for  righteousness  and  light.  He  is  dying,  slowly 
and  painfully,  a  victim  of  invincible  and  hostile  forces, 
yet  in  his  agony  he  is  thinking.  "  Before  the  end  of  his 
life,  Gregory  suddenly  beheld  all  his  life  at  once,  all  as  it 
had  been:  dark,  filthy,  full  of  worry  and  pain.  He  saw 
a  long  row  of  years,  monotonous,  gloomy,  hungry.  .  .  . 
He  could  have  lived  in  light,  goodness,  and  love  as  other 
people,  he  could  have  lived  in  obedience  to  God  as,  he 
heard,  others  did,  he  could  have  been  good,  just,  pure. 
Now  .  .  .  now  it  is  too  late.  He  is  dying,  he  must  die. 
In  front  of  him  is  only  death.  ..." 

2.  Rent.    A  story.     (1906.) 

What  stands  out  in  this  narrative  of  a  common  agrarian 
revolt  is  the  fury  of  hatred  displayed  by  the  peasants. 


V.  V.  MUJZHEL  289 

Centuries  of  slavery  had  nourished  their  hatred  for  the 
master.  Decades  of  starvation  had  filled  good-natured 
people  with  sheer  animal  rage  against  those  who  have 
meals  to  eat.  Agrarian  uprisings  seem  to  be  no  acts  of 
deliberation,  but  outbursts  of  dark  elemental  passions. 

3.  The  Life  of  a  Peasant  Woman.    Novelette.     (1907.) 
"...  She  bore  children,  she  was  ill  .    .    .  she  bore 

children  again  and  was  ill  again,  she  suffered  long  and 
hard.  All  the  time  she  worked,  she  carried  pails  of  water 
up  the  frozen  steeps  twelve  times  a  day,  she  tended  the 
cattle,  she  heated  the  stove,  in  summer  she  mowed  and 
reaped,  her  back  ached,  her  chest  was  heavy,  her  arms 
were  full  of  crushing  pain,  and  the  tears  trickled  down 
her  nose,  and  there  was  no  time  to  wipe  them  away." 
Worst  of  all  is  the  lack  of  sympathy,  of  care,  of  under- 
standing between  the  members  of  one  family.  Brutal  life 
erased  many  of  their  human  qualities  and — homo  homini 
lupus.  The  climax  of  the  story,  when  the  woman  gives 
birth  to  a  dead  child  in  the  midst  of  a  deserted  field, 
makes  even  the  hardened  reader  shudder. 

4.  A  Year.    Novel.    (191 1.) 

This  two-volume  work  is  almost  an  encyclopedia  of 
Russian  village  life  after  1906.  It  follows  the  cycle  of 
agricultural  activities  season  after  season.  It  describes 
village  holidays,  weddings,  and  other  festivities  with  all 
their  ceremonies.  It  presents  a  number  of  peasants,  men 
and  women,  whose  aspirations,  loves,  hatreds,  and  suffer- 
ings it  unrolls  in  natural  sequence.  All  this  is  shown 
against  the  background  of  an  entire  community  engaged 
in  a  fierce  struggle  for  a  meager  existence. 

Of  special  significance  is  the  process  of  disintegration 


2Q0  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

convincingly  pictured.  Old  semi-communistic  land  tenure 
is  doomed.  The  poorer  peasants  still  cling  to  it  as  a  last 
means  of  protection,  yet  the  implacable  law  of  competi- 
tion breaks  old  barriers.  The  rich  become  richer,  the 
poor  poorer.  Patriarchal  conditions  are  an  anachronism 
in  a  society  invaded  by  modern  capitalism.  The  govern- 
ment is  frankly  aiding  the  strong  against  the  weak,  and 
all  are  aware  that  new  times  are  coming. 

The  central  figure  of  the  novel  is  young  Sergey,  a 
simple  peasant  endowed  with  common  sense  and  a  feeling 
of  justice.  He  is  not  a  revolutionist,  not  a  hero,  yet  one 
can  easily  see  how  a  man  of  his  type  may  become  a  leader 
in  times  of  crisis.  "  Contrary  to  what  happens  in  all 
classes  higher  up,  where  the  hero  unites  the  masses  by  his 
will,  here  the  masses  squeeze  the  hero  out  from  among 
themselves,  endowing  him  with  all  their  qualities,  putting 
him  in  a  position  where  he  cannot  retreat,  almost  de- 
priving him  of  his  own  will,  which  may  not  be  in  accord 
with  the  will  of  the  masses.  They  split  his  life  with  the 
heavy  blow  of  their  impersonal  power  and  lead  him,  un- 
gratefully, on  the  painful  way  of  sacrifice  under  a  heavy 
yoke  which  drags  him  to  the  ground." 

The  only  ray  of  light  in  the  gloomy  and  discordant  pic- 
ture of  The  Year  is  the  dignity  of  labor  on  the  soil.  It 
elevates  and  cleanses. 

5.   Sin.    Novelette.    (191 2.) 

This  is  the  bottom  of  misery  and  humiliation.  It  is  a 
nightmare.  The  story  centers  around  a  soldier  who  comes 
home  to  his  native  village  all  saturated  with  the  traditions 
of  barrack  life,  such  as  recklessness,  lack  of  respect  for 
human  dignity,  and  that  particular  contempt  for  civilians 
which  was  carefully  bred  in  the  army  under  the  old 


V.  V.  MUJZHEL  291 

regime.    He  is  ill  with  an  ugly  disease,  and  he  has  heard 
that  innocent  bodies  are  a  cure  to  such  diseases.  .  ..   . 

6.   On  the  Edge  of  Life.    Novelette.    (1909.) 

Put  a  number  of  refined  and  cultured  revolutionaries 
into  the  midst  of  a  forlorn  semi-savage  little  peasant 
community  thousands  of  miles  away  from  civilization,  and 
you  will  have  the  contents  of  this  story.  Despair  on  the 
side  of  the  exiles,  hatred  on  the  side  of  the  natives.  Added 
are  hunger,  physical  discomfort,  humiliations.  The  re- 
sult is  murder,  suicide,  and  horror. 

[Another  work  of  significance,  besides  numerous  stories  of 
revolt  and  prison,  such  as  Nightmare,  Criminals,  etc.,  is  Iron 
in  Hand,  a  Cross  in  the  Heart, — volume  of  war  sketches  pub- 
lished in  1915  containing  observations  on  the  East-Prussian 
front.] 


SEMYON  YUSHKEVITCH  (1868-) 

The  end  of  the  nineteenth  and  the  beginning  of  the  twen- 
tieth century  saw  the  coming  of  a  new  crop  of  writers 
who  might  be  called  the  new  realists  (Gusev-Orenburgsky, 
Seraphimovitch,  Skitaletz,  Teleshov,  Yushkevitch,  and 
others).  These  writers  are  no  "seekers."  They  are 
not  battling  against  universal  problems.  They  are  not 
creators  of  new  forms.  They  are  not  strikingly  original. 
Sometimes  it  is  quite  difficult  to  distinguish  between  the 
style  of  one  author  and  the  other.  What  they  do  is  to 
observe  honestly  and  to  record  truthfully  the  main  cur- 
rents of  life  as  it  rolls  before  their  eyes. 

None  of  these  writers  belongs  to  the  first  ranks  of  Rus- 
sian literature;  none  will  be  called  "  the  master  of  the 
thought "  of  his  generation.  Yet  they  are  respected  and 
loved  as  able  exponents  of  the  ideas  that  move  their  con- 
temporaries. They  are  all  good  narrators.  They  have 
color,  imagination,  a  vivid  dialogue,  a  sense  of  harmony. 
In  their  manner,  they  mark  a  long  step  forward  as  com- 
pared with  the  average  realistic  writings  of  the  nine- 
teenth century.  They  are  quicker,  bolder,  more  decisive, 
and  more  accurate  in  their  descriptions.  They  use  a 
more  palpitating  language,  thus  unconsciously  following 
the  tempo  of  more  restless  times.  And  they  are,  on  the 
whole,  more  attractive  reading,  more  shot  through  with 
emotion  than  their  predecessors  of  the  same  caliber.1 

1  With  these  writers  may  also  be  classed  Chirikov  and  Mujzhel. 
(See  respective  chapters.) 

292 


SEMYON  YUSHKEVTTCH  293 

At  heart,  all  these  writers  are  dreaming  of  a  beautiful 
human  life  cloaked  in  light  and  warmed  by  genuine  love. 
Their  ideal  is  vague,  yet  it  makes  them  bitter  opponents 
of  all  the  evil  in  life.  Contrary  to  their  symbolistic  col- 
leagues, they  are  inclined  to  seek  the  roots  of  evfl  in 
social  conditions.  They  scrutinize  men  in  their  emotions 
and  passions,  yet  they  invariably  put  their  characters 
into  the  broader  social  and  political  framework.  They 
are  all  adherents  of  progressive  ideas,  and  a  sympathy 
for  the  radical  social  movements  is  manifest  in  their 
works.  The  general  reader  was  sometimes  more  eager  to 
read  those  works  than  the  productions  of  the  great 
masters. 

One  of  this  set,  perhaps  one  of  the  ablest,  is  Semyon 
Yushkevitch.  The  realm  of  his  observations  is  primarily 
the  Jewish  life. 

A  world  of  pathetic  contrasts  enfolds  before  our  eyes 
in  Yushkevitch's  stories  and  plays.  As  he  proceeds  from 
the  upper  to  the  lower  strata  of  Jewish  society,  the  burden 
of  oppression  increases,  yet  the  light  of  idealism  becomes 
brighter.  Down  below,  in  those  crowded  suburbs  of  mod- 
ern industrial  centers,  where  there  is  packed  together  the 
most  miserable  portion  of  the  most  miserable  people  in 
Russia,  life  is  sheer  agony.  Men  and  women  are  stricken 
dumb  and  stirred  again  to  mad  activity  by  the  lash  of 
hunger.  Yet  the  spirit  is  alive,  the  self-conscious  per- 
sonality attempts  to  assert  itself,  the  protest  is  rampant, 
and  the  pure  flowers  of  dreams  are  in  constant  bloom. 
There  is  poverty,  but  there  is  intelligence.  There 
is  forced  degradation,  but  the  mass  of  the  people 
is  inherently  sound.  There  is  injustice,  but  there  is 
not  hatred,  because  people  prefer  to  love  than  to 
hate. 


294  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

Yushkevitch  is  one  of  the  very  few  through  whom 
Russian  society  learned  to  trace  the  ramifications  of  an 
evil  regime  in  a  portion  of  Russia  whose  life  was  not 
familiar  to  it  through  personal  experience. 

i.   Ita  Heine.     (1902.)    \ 

2.  Our  Sisters.    (1903.)  I  Novelettes. 

3.  The  Street.    (1911.)    j 

This  is  how  Yushkevitch  himself  characterizes  the 
poorest  class  of  Jews:  "  There  were  no  chosen  here,  no- 
body was  spared.  .  .  .  Men  ever  howled  for  bread, 
howled  over  their  misery,  howled  with  the  hopeless  sound 
of  despair.  As  if  all  hearts  had  melted  into  one  heart, 
pure  human  suffering  flowed  from  a  deep  well,  cutting 
the  soul  like  a  sword.  Nobody  was  spared.  .  .  . 
Fathers  and  mothers  tormented  themselves,  nobody 
knows  why,  and  they  lived  like  martyr-animals,  from 
morning  to  evening,  from  morning  to  evening.  Crushed 
by  labor,  hunger,  worries,  they  still  gave  birth  to  chil- 
dren, prepared  them  for  the  great  service  of  life,  and 
boys  and  girls,  knowing  want  from  their  early  childhood, 
were  put  into  factories,  shops,  and  plants  where  bodies 
withered,  youth  evaporated.  ...  In  the  struggle  for 
bread,  everything  was  grasped  at,  nothing  was  shunned, 
neither  prostitution,  nor  theft." 

One  of  the  occupations  in  the  struggle  for  bread  is  the 
service  of  a  wet  nurse  as  described  in  Ita  Heine.  Young 
mothers,  sometimes  unhappy  young  girls,  hire  themselves 
and  their  bodies  to  feed  the  children  of  the  wealthy,  while 
their  own  children,  their  flesh  and  blood,  are  dying  under 
the  cruel  hand  of  a  careless  keeper.  The  traffic  in  wet 
nurses  is  a  history  of  complete  misery  and  deprivation, 
leading  down  to  the  street. 


SEMYON  YUSHKEVITCH  295 

Another  occupation  is  domestic  service  as  described  in 
Our  Sisters.  Domestic  servants  in  a  backward  and  unor- 
ganized society  can  hardly  be  distinguished  from  slaves. 
The  employers,  families  of  the  middle-class,  lead  an  idle, 
lazy,  senseless  life.  The  servants  have  no  definite  work- 
ing hours,  no  rest,  no  rights.  Worst  of  all — they  are 
made  a  plaything  in  the  hands  of  the  house-masters  or 
their  sons,  against  whom  they  have  no  means  of  defense. 
The  work  of  the  domestic  servant  often  leads  down  to  the 
street. 

And  so  we  see  in  The  Street  all  those  outcasts  of  human 
society  shunned  by  all,  yet  recognized  by  law  and  con- 
sidered an  unavoidable  evil.  Yushkevitch  goes  to  the 
houses,  the  families  of  the  girls,  shows  us  their  circum- 
stances, gives  details  of  the  girls'  efforts  to  find  clean, 
honest  work  sufficient  to  maintain  themselves.  He  looks 
into  the  souls  of  the  poor  victims,  and  the  reader  realizes 
that  underneath  the  misery  and  hideousness  of  their  occu- 
pation there  is  a  human  soul,  crushed,  trampled  down, 
bleeding,  and  yearning,  eternally  yearning  for  honesty, 
purity,  peace.  .  .  .  "Don't  you  see,  we've  got  to  live; 
somehow  we've  got  to,"  this  is  the  ultimate  justification 
of  all  those  horrors  often  recorded  by  Yushkevitch. 

4.   The  Jews.    Novel.    (1904.) 

A  great  stir  has  come  over  the  poor  suburb.  Some  new 
God  has  touched  the  hearts  of  all  those  sufferers  and 
toilers.  The  forebodings  of  the  revolution  are  in  the  air. 
New  hopes  are  dawning.  Prophets  are  rising  from  the 
dust;  poor  human  frames,  bent  under  the  burden  of  op- 
pression, straighten  out,  and  words,  awkward  and  un- 
learned, but  burning  with  fanatic  faith,  are  warming 
hearts.    Zionism  on  one  hand, — the  hope  for  a  speedy 


296  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

return  to  the  land  of  the  fathers;  revolutionary  doctrine 
on  the  other  hand, — the  hope  for  a  brotherly  cooperation 
of  all  Russian  peoples  in  the  glorious  work  of  liberty. 
A  clash  of  ideals,  a  battle  of  convictions, — and  over  it 
all,  the  shining  vision  of  a  better  life.  Love,  young  and 
bashful,  makes  its  appearance  among  youth,  and  then — 
a  mysterious  hand  spreading  venom,  a  pogrom,  blood  and 
death.  .  .  . 

The  Jews  made  Yushkevitch  very  popular  in  Russia. 

5.  Hunger.    Play  in  four  acts.    (1905.) 

6.  In  Town.    Play  in  four  acts.    (1906.) 

The  souls  of  people  brought  to  despair  by  utter  poverty, 
yet  resisting  with  all  their  might  and  unwilling  to  give 
up  the  struggle,  form  the  contents  of  both  plays.  It  is 
interesting  to  note  the  difference  between  Yushkevitch's 
characters  and  the  peasants  of  Mujzhel.  The  poverty  and 
the  hopeless  situation  are  the  same,  yet  Yushkevitch's 
people  live  in  towns.  They  are  more  intelligent,  more 
alert.  Their  sufferings  are  more  keenly  felt  and  more 
hysterically  protested  against. 

7.  Miserere.    A  lyric  drama  in  eight  scenes.    (1911.) 
The  most  poetic  of  Yushkevitch's  works.    Strains  of 

subdued  music  are  sounding  throughout  the  scenes,  and 
the  dominant  note  is  death.  A  group  of  young  Jewish 
boys  and  girls,  working  boys  and  working  girls,  who  grew 
up  on  the  marshes  of  poverty,  resemble  a  cluster  of  pale, 
delicate  flowers  in  the  crack  of  a  ruin.  They  pray  for 
sun,  but  the  sun  is  shut  out.  They  reach  for  life,  but  life 
eludes  them.  They  love,  yet  sadness  cuts  love  at  its 
root.  They  are  beautiful  in  their  humane  attitude  and 
in  their  ideals,  but  death  weighs  heavily  on  their  bent 


SEMYON  YUSHKEVITCH  297 

heads.    They   willingly   pass   away,   to   the   sound   of 
music.  .  .  . 
Miserere  was  a  favorite  of  the  Russian  stage. 

[Other  works  of  significance:  The  King,  a  play;  The  Comedy 
of  Marriage,  a  play ;  Leon  Drei,  a  novel  in  two  volumes ; 
Sketches  from  Childhood;  Doves,  tales  from  the  life  of  doves, 
and  many  short  stories.] 


S.  I.  GUSEV-ORENBURGSKY  (1867-) 

The  life  of  the  clergy,  especially  in  the  rural  districts, 
offers  very  instructive  material  to  the  student  of  Russia. 
The  rural  clergy  is  in  a  double  position.  On  one  hand, 
it  comes  into  close  contact  with  the  poor  peasant  in  his 
most  intimate  personal  and  family  affairs;  on  the  other 
hand,  it  is  a  member  of  a  strong  bureaucratic  hierarchy 
whose  aim  is  anything  but  the  welfare  of  the  people. 
On  one  hand,  it  is  surrounded  by  primitive  conditions, 
away  from  the  centers  of  civilization;  on  the  other  hand, 
it  feels  itself  entitled,  by  education  and  social  position, 
to  a  more  cultured  existence.  On  one  hand,  it  is  sup- 
posed to  be  concerned  with  the  highest  spiritual  values; 
on  the  other,  it  is  placed  in  a  situation  where  the  care 
for  daily  bread  and  the  worry  for  material  things  absorb 
all  the  faculties. 

The  rural  clergy  receives  no  salary  outside  of  a  house 
to  live  in  and  a  piece  of  land.  The  minister's  income  con- 
sists of  fees  collected  from  the  parishioners  for  the  per- 
formance of  religious  ceremonies.  As  the  peasants  have 
very  little  money,  the  fees  are  quite  often  presented  in 
kind:  geese,  chickens,  eggs,  bread.  At  any  rate,  this  in- 
volves a  haggling  between  minister  and  peasant  and  is 
quite  injurious  to  the  dignity  of  a  clergyman.  For  the 
meager  living  he  is  thus  allowed  to  make,  the  minister  is 
supposed  to  obey  rigidly  all  the  orders  from  the  bishop. 
He  is  not  allowed  to  hesitate,  to  have  his  personal  opinion, 
under  the  threat  of  being  immediately  transferred  to  a 
worse  and  more  distant  parish  or  suspended  from  service. 

298 


S.  I.  GUSEV-ORENBURGSKY  299 

The  bishop  of  the  province  is  the  supreme  power  over 
local  ministers  and  no  appeal  is  of  any  use. 

"  The  entire  order  of  life  in  this  social  class  bears  an  archaic 
stamp.  It  is  the  order  of  things  as  it  existed  before  Peter 
[the  Great].  On  the  surface,  old  Russia  is  supposed  to  have 
disappeared  some  two  hundred  years  ago ;  down  in  the  depths, 
however,  it  has  still  retained  its  power.  Here  the  officers  live 
on  fees  collected  for  their  maintenance;  here  people  prostrate 
themselves  bodily  before  their  superiors.  Centuries  have 
brought  almost  no  change  in  this  social  stratum.  Of  course, 
the  archbishop  seems  to  be  quite  up  to  date;  he  studies  Au- 
gustinus,  he  is  a  conscious  adherent  of  modern  clericalism  on 
a  nationalist  basis,  and  is  mentally  superior  to  the  bulk  of  the 
clergy.  Yet  all  his  relations  and  endeavors  remind  you  of  the 
Kiev  school  in  the  seventeenth  century.  It  is  ancient  Russia, 
its  strength  is  still  great;  it  is  a  factor  of  tremendous  im- 
portance and  as  such  deserves  careful  attention." 

N.  Korobka. 

However,  in  spite  of  distressing  conditions,  in  spite  of 
harrowing  loneliness  in  out-of-the-way  barbarous  vil- 
lages, in  spite  of  pressure  from  above  and  misery  from 
below,  the  spirit  is  not  all  dead,  the  conscience  is  not 
extinguished.  God's  spark  is  often  shining  through  the 
mud  and  mist  of  humiliation  and  stupefaction.  The 
ministers  are  doing  wrong  but  as  a  rule  they  do  not  rest 
satisfied.  They  are  tools  in  the  hands  of  a  strong  and 
sinister  power,  and  are  often  aware  of  it.  They  help  to 
keep  the  people  in  ignorance  and  bondage,  but  they  pro- 
test inwardly  and  are  not  infrequently  the  most  lamen- 
table victims  of  a  conflict  between  their  duties  before  God 
and  their  duties  before  human  institutions. 

The  writer  of  our  times  who  devoted  most  of  his  talent 
to  studies  in  the  life  of  the  clergy  is  Gusev-Orenburgsky. 
Hardly  any  living  man  of  letters  knows  this  class  better 


3oo  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

than  Gusev.  An  easy  style,  a  conversational  mode  of 
writing,  and  a  colorful  language  make  his  short  and  long 
stories  very  attractive  reading. 

i.   Short  Stories,    (i 899-1 91 6.) 

Gusev-Orenburgsky  is  a  friend  of  the  clergy.  He  does 
not  come  to  condemn.  He  comes  to  understand.  He 
brands  nobody  even  for  evil  acts,  he  wants  to  lay  bare 
the  springs  of  human  actions.  This  is  why  his  stories 
contain  both  negative  and  positive  types  of  clergymen. 
The  former  are  subservient  to  their  superiors,  they  care 
for  their  fields  and  orchards  and  cattle  and  poultry  more 
than  for  their  spiritual  flock,  and  they  indulge  in  abun- 
dant food  and  drinks.  In  many  cases,  they  are  hand  in 
glove  with  the  local  "  fist,"  the  rich  peasant  who  exploits 
his  fellow-villagers.  The  positive  types  of  clergymen  are 
idealistic,  they  help  their  parishioners  both  materially 
and  spiritually,  they  serve  as  their  spokesmen  before  the 
authorities,  they  participate  in  their  mental  and  moral 
struggles,  and  they  help  to  combat  the  "  fists." 

The  wives  of  the  ministers  are  ordinarily  more  refined 
than  their  husbands,  and  their  loneliness  is  sometimes  in- 
tolerable. One  of  them  says  in  a  story  by  Gusev-Oren- 
burgsky: "  I  have  counted  all  the  eggs,  examined  all  the 
chickens,  played  all  the  waltzes  .  .  .  and  what  now? 
And  thus  to  live  all  my  life?!  Year  after  year?!  I'll 
soon  be  aging,  my  face  will  become  wrinkled,  my  eyes  will 
lose  their  luster.  .  .  .  I'll  get  spectacles,  and  still  I'll  go 
on  examining  the  chickens,  counting  the  eggs,  playing 
the  waltzes.  ..." 

2.    The  Land  of  the  Fathers.    Novel.    (1905.) 

"  The  land  of  the  fathers  is  old  Russia,  the  land  of  the  chil- 
dren is  young  Russia.    They  have  come  into  conflict  now,  they 


S.  I.  GUSEV-ORENBURGSKY  301 

are  brazenly  facing  each  other,  and  there  can  be  no  peace. 
The  battle  is  raging  all  along  the  front ;  the  question  is  no  more 
who  shall  win,  as  the  victory  of  the  young  is  assured ;  the  ques- 
tion is  how  soon  the  victory  will  come  and  how  many  painful 
skirmishes  will  be  required.  .  .  .  The  clergy  takes  an  impor- 
tant part  in  the  life  of  the  village,  and  it  has  been  touched  by 
the  rebellious  spirit  of  our  times.  City  and  town  have  drawn 
closer  in  mutual  influences,  and  a  roaring  stream  is  rushing 
between  banks  recently  quiet  in  a  patriarchal  complacency." 

N.  Asheshov. 

Father  Ivan,  one  of  the  main  figures,  is  drawn  into  the 
revolutionary  movement.  He  feels  "  as  if  from  the  golden 
peaks  of  a  mountain  range  he  saw  boundless  vistas, 
flooded  with  the  light  of  a  morning  sun."  He  takes  off  his 
robe  to  serve  the  cause  of  the  people. 

3.  Over  the  Madow.    Novelette.     (1909.) 

A  great  stir  has  come  over  the  land.  Life  is  out  of 
joint.  Old  foundations  are  shaking  under  the  onrush  of 
new  forces.  The  clergy  is  restless.  Hot  waves  of  popu- 
lar emotion,  often  moving  in  unhealthy  channels,  reach 
the  ministers,  infect  their  souls,  make  them  see  new 
visions.  The  spirit  of  mysticism  awakens  in  a  time  of 
popular  upheavals.  Religion  and  revolution  are  blended 
in  the  dark  depths  of  the  masses. 

Over  the  turmoil  and  haze  of  movements,  clashes,  and 
despair,  rises  the  calm  figure  of  a  minister  who  interprets 
the  Bible  literally  and  finds  in  it  all  the  ideals  of  equality, 
brotherhood,  justice.  "  Eternal  justice  must  be  restored," 
is  his  slogan.  For  this  evangelical  faith  he  is  considered 
a  dangerous  rebel. 

4.  Darkness.    Novelette.    (191 5.) 

A  forlorn  poor  village.  A  young  minister  adored  by  his 
parish,  an  ideal  shepherd  of  men.     Economic  work  is 


302  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

united  with  the  preaching  of  religious  and  moral  ideals  in 
the  work  of  this  young  idealist.  He  manifests  strength 
of  will,  courage,  and  a  real  sense  of  leadership.  Under 
his  guidance  the  village  improves  considerably.  This, 
however,  is  to  the  disfavor  of  the  local  rich  man  who  used 
to  hold  the  entire  country  in  his  grip.  A  visit  to  the 
bishop  makes  him  victorious  over  the  minister.  The  lat- 
ter dares  to  blame  the  bishop  for  a  partial  attitude.  His 
fate  is  sealed. 


BORIS  ZAITZEV  (1881-) 

Of  all  the  voices  in  modern  Russian  literature,  Zaitzev's 
is  the  lowest.  It  is  tender  and  fragile.  It  melts  away  in 
the  distance.    It  leaves  the  impression  of  a  silent  prayer. 

Zaitzev  writes  stories.  They  tell  real  facts  about  real 
people.  They  do  not  shun  the  mire  and  the  evil  of  exist- 
ence. Yet  they  always  touch  the  strings  of  lyricism,  and 
longing  rises  in  their  wake,  happy  longing  akin  to  sadness. 

Zaitzev  pictures  life.  He  is  in  the  midst  of  it.  There 
is  strife  and  hatred  and  blood  in  his  stories.  There  is  the 
clash  of  wills,  of  passions,  of  ideals.  There  is  brutal 
force  often  triumphant.  Yet  over  the  turmoil  and  the 
ugly  noises,  Zaitzev  spreads  the  cover  of  lofty  silence. 
It  hangs  over  all  and  pacifies  all  and  bridges  the  space 
between  the  passing  happenings  of  the  earth  and  the  silent 
roads  to  eternity. 

Zaitzev  loves  life,  yet  he  is  not  afraid  of  death.  Life 
to  him  is  a  great  unending  festivity.  The  sun  pours 
gold  into  his  heart  and  gives  him  the  happiness  of  a  child, 
and  he  knows  there  is  no  dread  in  death.  Death  is  only 
one  step  to  a  new,  light,  and  joyous  existence.  He  knows 
firmly  "  the  gladness  and  the  refreshingness  of  that  which 
is  above  life." 

Zaitzev  knows  suffering.  Yet  he  knows  also  the  curing 
power  of  love.  Fundamentally  man  cannot  be  penetrated 
by  utter  despair.  Man  breathes  the  soft  air  of  love  and 
longing  and  is  happy.  Man  is  a  vessel  of  happiness. 
"  When  human  souls  blossom,  thou  givest  them  fragrance. 

393 


304  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

When  they  perish,  thou  puttest  ecstasy  into  them.  Oh, 
Eternal  spirit  of  love,  thou  art  triumphant!  " 

Zaitzev  is  the  most  ecstatic  of  all  modern  Russian 
writers.  He  is  like  a  saint  that  lives  in  the  wilderness; 
a  man  that  has  seen  much  pain  and  much  travail  and 
much  sin,  and  has  retained  a  pure,  kind,  gentle  soul  able 
to  bless  God  for  every  ray  of  light,  for  every  whiff  of  the 
summer  breeze.  Zaitzev  is  drunk  with  joy,  but  he  is 
never  riotous.  Only  his  voice  trembles  with  suppressed 
emotion. 

Zaitzev  is  religious,  perhaps  the  only  writer  that  does 
not  seek  his  God,  because  he  has  found  Him.  God  ap- 
pears to  Zaitzev  in  nature,  in  the  actions  of  men,  in  the 
destinies  of  mankind.  Zaitzev  cannot  call  his  God  by 
name — no  religious  man  can — but  he  feels  His  presence 
in  those  miraculous  changes  that  come  into  a  human  soul 
and  lead  it  over  new  paths. 

Zaitzev  is  close  to  nature  as  few  of  his  contemporaries. 
Nature  to  him  is  the  mother  of  all;  it  is  the  great  Whole 
of  which  men  and  animals  and  flowers  and  fields  are 
only  parts.  Everything  in  nature  is  important,  as  every- 
thing in  life  is  full  of  meaning,  and  a  man  finds  his  real 
self  only  in  close  communion  with  nature.  "  I  could  lie 
for  hours  half  sleeping  on  the  sand,"  he  speaks  through 
one  of  his  persons,  "  I  could  listen  to  the  ocean,  observe 
the  endless  course  of  the  clouds.  I  experienced  that  de- 
tachment from  men  and  life,  some  return  to  the  primeval 
which  must  be  known  to  anchorets  and  the  founders  of 
monasteries.  I  did  not  feel  any  more  that  I  was  a  mem- 
ber of  the  bar,  a  member  of  society,  and  a  man  dressed 
according  to  fashion.  I  would  have  been  able  to  say  in 
the  words  of  St.  Francis:  '  The  ocean  is  my  brother,  the 
clouds,  the  grasses,  the  sea-weeds  are  dear  sisters  of  mine.' 


BORIS  ZAITZEV  305 

Here  I  could  have  been  as  nude  and  mentally  simple  as 
the  children,  the  fishes,  the  butterflies." 

Zaitzev  has  been  compared  frequently  to  an  aquarelle 
painter.  His  landscapes,  characters,  and  happenings  are 
presented  in  tender,  almost  transparent  hues.  At  the 
same  time,  he  has  a  peculiar  inner  strength,  a  subdued  yet 
never  diminishing  inner  glow  which  makes  every  stroke 
of  his  brush  vibrate  with  warm  though  restrained  life. 

There  have  been  no  two  opinions  in  Russia  as  to  the 
originality  and  beauty  of  his  talent,  and  he  quickly  occu- 
pied a  place  in  the  foremost  ranks  of  modern  Russian 
writers. 

"  He  is  illuminated  by  the  inner  light  of  his  idealism;  he 
has  a  transparent  soul,  and  it  is  this  soul  that  allows  him  to  live 
for  the  sake  of  beauty,  to  notice  keenly  hearts  and  nature,  those 
1  pale  peach-colored  carpets  '  which  the  dawn  brushes  over  the 
sea,  those  '  black  folds  of  the  night '  in  which  wander  robbing 
and  perishing  people,  that  '  clear  fragrance,  the  air  which 
seemed  to  condense  into  a  wonderful  winter-drink/  Zaitzev 
is  montonous,  and  there  is  no  plot  in  his  stories,  no  '  subject/ 
but  there  is  quiet  real  life,  the  undulation  of  its  moods,  its 
intangible  solace  and  beauty.  He  has  fine  palaces  and  a  great 
hospitable  heart;  he  is  the  psalmist  of  the  human  soul,  the 
David  who  stepped  forth  to  fight  the  giant  of  the  world's  rag- 
ing reality.  To  the  horror  and  the  drama  of  life,  he  opposed 
himself,  his  radiance,  his  young  though  restrained  triumphant 

joy."  J.  ElCHENWALD. 

It  is  natural  that  Zaitzev's  persons  are  not  men  of 
action.  They  are  rather  passive.  They  are  clay  in  the 
hands  of  Fate.  This  gave  rise  to  a  number  of  criticisms 
which,  far  from  disputing  Zaitzev's  talent,  disagreed  with 
his  conception  of  life.    Here  is  a  sample: 

"  In  his  stories,  Zaitzev  sketches  a  religious  person  who 
merges  into  the  cosmos,  believes  in  the  transformation  of  the 


306  THE  RECENT  TIDE 

flesh,  in  immortality,  in  God.  We  have  a  full-size  portrait  of 
a  will-less,  passive,  yielding  person  who  blesses  pain,  has  a 
benign  soul,  is  not  very  clever,  and  does  not  even  need  reason. 
He  is  far  from  resembling  that  lightning-bearing  creator  of 
life,  the  man  girdled  with  the  rainbow  of  knowledge  and  faith 
who  appeared  in  the  visions  of  some  mystic  philosophers. 
Zaitzev's  man,  in  an  aureole  of  tender  Christian  submissive- 
ness,  is  inactive,  he  lacks  creative  power,  and  no  social  bonds 
unite  him  with  his  fellow  human  beings." 

M.  Morozov. 

i.   Stories.    ( 1904-19 17.) 

It  is  almost  impossible  to  make  a  selection  from  Zait- 
zev's stories,  all  of  which  are  of  nearly  equal  value  and 
written  in  the  same  style.  Six  volumes  of  his  collected 
stories  appeared  between  1906  and  1916. 

2.   Far-Away  Country.    Novel.     (1913.) 

This  is  a  typical  novel  of  the  life  of  the  Russian  intel- 
ligentzia in  the  stormy  years  of  1904- 1906.  Students; 
students'  unrest;  demonstrations;  aid  for  starving  peas- 
ants; revolutionary  parties;  terror;  prison;  exile;  fugi- 
tives abroad;  tragedies  of  lost  and  found  faith.  Through 
all  this  whirl  of  a  great  mass  of  humanity  in  upheaval, 
Zaitzev  leads  with  a  gentle  hand  a  number  of  young 
men  and  women  to  the  "  far-away  country,"  which  may 
be  death  for  the  sake  of  an  ideal,  and  may  be  a  life 
full  of  work  and  sound  endeavor.  .  .  .  Neither  life  nor 
death  is  the  end  of  things,  and  the  "  far-away  country  " 
still  lures  with  its  mystic  charm. 

[Zaitzev  is  also  the  translator  of   Flaubert's  St.  Anthony's 
Trials  and  A  Simple  Heart,  and  other  works.] 


APPENDIX 


•      APPENDIX 

JUVENILE  LITERATURE  IN  RUSSIA 

In  the  year  of  Christ,  1903,  the  writer  of  these  lines  was 
involved  in  a  formidable  conspiracy.  Painfully  he  had 
to  guard  every  step  lest  he  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  ever- 
vigilant  police.  Furtively,  under  the  cloak  of  night,  he 
had  to  steal  to  the  place  of  his  dangerous  activities.  With 
the  keenest  attention  he  had  to  scrutinize  the  signs  in  the 
windows  of  that  mysterious  little  house  in  the  suburb  be- 
fore he  entered  the  low  door.  The  sign  denoting  "  dan- 
ger "  made  his  heart  ache  for  the  fate  of  the  whole 
enterprise. 

And  when  at  last  he  made  his  way  to  the  spacious  back- 
room facing  the  cherry  orchard,  what  did  he  find  there? 
A  number  of  boys  between  the  ages  of  fifteen  and  nine- 
teen whom  he,  together  with  two  other  young  students, 
was  teaching  to  read  and  write.  Between  lessons,  we 
were  also  telling  the  pupils  stories  from  botany,  geog- 
raphy, or  physics.  In  short,  it  was  an  evening  school,  for 
boys  who  had  received  no  school  education.  The  aims 
of  our  little  undertaking  were  purely  cultural:  we  wanted 
to  bring  a  spark  of  light  into  the  lives  of  some  young 
artisans'  apprentices  in  the  town  where  we  were  spending 
our  summer  vacation.  We  conducted  no  political  propa- 
ganda. We  couldn't  have  done  it  if  we  had  wanted  to 
because  the  level  of  understanding  among  the  boys  was 
very  low.  Yet,  had  we  been  discovered  by  the  Argus  of 
the  gendarmery,  we  might  have  been  tried  for  sedition. 

309 


310  APPENDIX 

It  is  easy  to  imagine  that  in  a  country  where  educa- 
tional work  among  the  masses  was  facing  obstacles  of 
such  gravity;  where  teaching  in  an  elementary  school  in 
one  of  the  forlorn  villages  was  a  series  of  heroic  self- 
sacrifices;  where  schools  for  adults,  Sunday  schools,  pub- 
lic lectures  of  every  description  were  looked  upon  as  so 
many  nests  of  destructive  propaganda;  where  books  were 
scarce,  libraries  for  the  villagers  very  rare,  and  even  the 
sale  of  books  to  plain  people  considered  undesirable 
— it  is  easy  to  imagine  that  in  a  country  of  this  kind, 
where  the  overwhelming  majority  of  the  population  is  il- 
literate, the  book  must  have  a  totally  different  value  from 
that  in  any  modern  civilized  country.  One  of  the  ever- 
recurring  sentimental  topics  of  Russian  journalism,  fiction 
and  painting,  is  that  keen-eyed,  intelligent-looking  school- 
boy who  reads  before  the  adults  of  his  family  some  of  the 
wonders  contained  in  a  book  furnished  by  the  teacher. 
It  is  night.  The  low  ceiling  of  the  cabin  is  covered  with 
soot.  The  little  oil  lamp  hardly  flickers.  Shadows  are 
hovering  in  every  corner.  Outside,  the  snow-storm  is 
raging.  Close  to  the  stove,  in  the  circle  of  light,  the 
boy  reads  his  story.  Men  with  shaggy  beards  and  heavy 
fists,  work-worn  women  in  their  fantastic  shawls,  the 
old  ghastly  looking  grandfather  on  top  of  the  fireplace — 
all  listen  attentively,  with  dreamy  eyes,  with  an  expres- 
sion of  bewilderment,  delight,  and  appreciation.  "  Yes, 
son,  the  book  is  a  great  thing,"  some  one  will  thought- 
fully sum  up  the  impressions. 

This  unusually  high  value  attached  to  the  book  through- 
out the  vast  steppes  of  the  Russian  empire  accounts  for 
one  characteristic  feature  of  Russian  juvenile  literature. 
There  is  no  marked  distinction  between  books  for  chil- 
dren and  books  for  uneducated  adults.    In  the  majority 


JUVENILE  LITERATURE  IN  RUSSIA  311 

of  cases,  both  classes  merge  into  one.  It  seems  as  if  the 
Russian  genius  found  it  too  extravagant  to  expend  national 
intellectual  energy  on  the  creation  of  a  specific  literature 
suited  to  the  psychology  and  understanding  of  children. 
It  favored  rather  a  popular  literature  of  a  general  char- 
acter where  every  person,  young  or  old,  may  find  delight 
and  profit.  Opinions  of  this  kind  were  voiced  more  than 
once  by  the  leading  thinkers  of  Russia.  "  What  is  the 
characteristic  feature  of  a  story  for  children?  "  asks 
Byelinsky,  the  great  critic  of  the  forties.  "  A  story  of  this 
kind,"  he  says,  "  is  clumsily  put  together  and  is  strewn 
over  with  moral  sentences.  The  aim  of  such  works  is 
to  deceive  the  children,  to  distort  the  face  of  life."  That 
should  not  be.  If  you  want  to  write  for  children,  the 
critic  says,  do  so,  but  "  create  narratives  and  pictures  full 
of  life  and  motion,  permeated  with  enthusiasm,  warm 
with  emotion,  written  in  an  easy,  free,  playful,  colorful 
yet  simple  language,  and  be  sure  that  your  work  will  form 
the  most  solid  foundation  and  the  most  effective  means  of 
education.  Write  for  children,  if  you  wish,  but  write  in 
a  manner  that  your  book  may  be  read  by  an  adult  with 
equal  pleasure."  A  similar  thought  is  expressed  in  a 
more  drastic  language  by  Pisarev,  the  leading  critic  and 
publicist  of  the  sixties.  "Literature  for  children,"  he 
writes,  "  is  a  miserable,  adulterated,  and  utterly  artificial 
branch  of  general  literature.  No  place  should  be  given 
in  school  libraries  to  literature  for  children.  Such  libra- 
ries should  be  open  for  pupils  who  are  in  a  position  to 
read  with  pleasure  and  understand  books  written  for 
adults.  What  books,  then,  should  form  a  library  for 
pupils?  The  works  of  the  best  fictionists  and  critics, 
Russian,  French  and  German,  descriptions  of  famous 
travels,   historical   works,    and   popular   books   on   all 


3i2  APPENDIX 

branches  of  science."  In  our  times,  Rubakin,  the  famous 
bibliophile,  author  of  numerous  popular  books  and  com- 
piler of  the  most  serious  systematic  catalogue  of  Russian 
literature,  expressed  the  same  idea.  "  A  library  for  chil- 
dren," he  writes,  "  ought  to  be  constructed  on  the  same 
principle  as  a  library  for  adults,  with  the  sole  difference 
that  the  books  contained  in  the  children's  department 
should  be  interesting  for  children  and  accessible  to  their 
understanding.  The  word  accessible,  however,  allows 
for  no  arbitrary  interpretation.  Accessibility  is  a  ques- 
tion of  form,  not  of  contents.  The  most  abstract  thought 
can  be  made  accessible  to  the  child's  understanding  if  it 
is  illustrated  by  a  series  of  concrete  facts  and  if  the  facts 
are  grouped  in  a  way  to  make  the  reader  proceed  from  the 
less  difficult  to  the  more  difficult  item.  .  .  .  This  is  no 
theoretical  assertion;  it  is  derived  from  all  our  activities 
at  popularizing  science."  Rubakin  insists  on  giving 
children  a  maximum  of  freedom  in  choosing  reading 
matter. 

It  was  in  conformity  with  this  idea  that  specific  juvenile 
literature  was  not  looked  upon  with  favor  by  the  best 
elements  of  the  Russian  intelligentzia.  This  does  not 
mean  that  Russia  lacked  writers  who  published  special 
magazines  for  children  or  compiled  sentimental  stories  to 
be  read  in  the  children's  rooms  of  more  or  less  wealthy 
families.  Some  of  these  writers  even  attained  great  fame 
among  their  little  readers.  Yet  the  progressive  Russian 
looked  askance  at  all  such  writings.  Sugar-coated  stories 
stuffed  with  moral  preachings  were  not  to  his  taste. 
Producers  of  such  works  were  outside  the  pale  of  litera- 
ture. In  fact,  not  one  "  children's  author  "  gained  recog- 
nition in  Russia  as  equal  to  the  "  real "  writers. 

What,  then,  is  the  literature  that  the  thinking  Russian 


JUVENILE  LITERATURE  IN  RUSSIA  313 

deems  worthy  of  circulating  among  the  children  and, 
equally,  among  the  plain  people?  These  are,  first  of  all, 
the  creations  of  the  primitive  popular  genius:  fairy-tales 
(skazki),  hero  songs  (byliny),  legends,  collected  and 
partly  put  into  modern  language.  Russian  folklore  is 
an  inexhaustible  source  of  poetic  creations.  Those  crea- 
tions, however,  lack  the  refinements  of  the  Hellenic  epics 
or  the  exuberant  fantasy  and  color  of  the  Hindu  tales. 
Russian  folklore  is  of  a  more  realistic  kind.  Personified 
forces  of  nature  do  not  seem  out  of  place  in  a  country 
which  has  retained  much  of  its  primitive  simplicity. 
Domestic  and  wild  animals  fit  well  into  the  scheme  of 
rural  life  dominating  Russia  even  at  present.  This  makes 
Russian  folklore  welcome  reading  for  the  family  and 
school.  Russian  fairy  tales  in  certain  ways  represent  a 
good  picture  of  the  Russian  national  character.  Their 
humor  is  genuine  and  refreshing.  Many  a  great  writer, 
notably  the  poets  Pushkin,  Zhukovsky,  Count  Alexey  Tol- 
stoi, and  Koltzov,  have  created  beautiful  legends,  songs, 
and  ballads  on  themes  borrowed  from  folklore.  These 
are  being  read,  perhaps,  with  more  delight  than  even  the 
original  tales.  In  recent  years,  many  talented  artists 
have  devoted  much  fond  attention  to  illustration  for  fairy- 
tales. The  name  of  Bilibin  stands  out  as  the  most  famous 
among  these  artists. 

The  volume  of  reading  matter  for  the  young  and  for 
the  unsophisticated  adult,  however,  is  composed  of  the 
works  of  the  best  Russian  writers,  classical  as  well  as 
modern.  In  a  model  catalogue  for  children  between  the 
ages  of  nine  and  eleven,  I  find  works  of  Bunin,  Gogol, 
Grigorovitch,  Garshin,  Gorky,  Krylov,  Korolenko,  Ku- 
prin,  Mamin-Sibiryak,  Machtet,  Nikitin,  Nekrasov3 
Nemirovitch-Danchenko,    Pushkin,    Zhukovsky,    Stan- 


3i4  APPENDIX 

yukovitch,  Seroshevsky,  Seraphimovitch,  Tolstoi,  Tur- 
genev,  Chekhov,  and  others, — all  writers  for  adults.  It  is 
the  contention  of  pedagogues  that  what  is  good  for  adults 
is  good  for  the  little  ones,  provided  they  understand  it. 
Fortunately,  almost  every  great  Russian  writer  created 
a  number  of  stories  of  such  lucidity,  simplicity,  and  hu- 
manness  as  to  make  them,  sometimes  in  an  abridged 
form,  superb  reading  for  children.  Nothing  can  equal 
such  stories  as  The  Captain's  Daughter  by  Pushkin;  The 
Cloak  by  Gogol;  The  Diary  of  a  Sportsman  by  Turgenev, 
or  those  wonderful  popular  stories  by  Leo  Tolstoi  which 
are  being  circulated  by  the  millions  all  over  Russia. 
Through  such  works,  the  young  reader  learns  early  to 
appreciate  good  realistic  literature  and  to  love  his  classics. 
Excerpts  from  the  writers  for  adults  form  also  the  main 
body  of  readers  used  in  the  classroom. 

A  third  category  of  Russian  juvenile  literature  is  popu- 
lar works  on  natural  sciences,  including  geography  and 
travel.  A  fourth,  by  far  not  the  least  important,  is  trans- 
lations from  foreign  languages.  In  the  above-mentioned 
catalogue,  we  find  such  names  as  De  Amicis,  Auerbach, 
Baron  Muenchhausen,  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe,  Bret 
Harte,  Braddon,  Defoe,  Dickens,  Daudet,  Eliot,  Goethe, 
Malot,  Aldrich,  Pressense,  Rosegger,  Saunders,  Mark 
Twain,  Oscar  Wilde,  etc.  It  may  be  interesting  to  know 
that  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  and  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper 
rank  among  the  most  popular  books  in  Russia.  Not  long 
ago,  Fenimore  Cooper  and  Captain  Mayne  Reid  were 
among  the  favorites. 

It  seems  that  America  has  not  been  as  eager  to  trans- 
late from  Russian  authors  for  her  children,  as  Russia  has 
been  to  translate  American  authors.  The  number  of 
translations  from  Russian  we  find  in  such  a  good  collec- 


JUVENILE  LITERATURE  IN  RUSSIA  315 

tion  of  juvenile  books  as  the  children's  department  of  the 
Astor  Library  in  the  City  of  New  York  is  very  limited. 
In  fact,  nothing  but  a  few  fairy-tale  books  are  available. 
Of  these,  Leonard  A.  Magnus's  Russian  Folk  Tales  repre- 
sents the  most  complete  collection  of  fopular  fairy-tales 
and  is  very  close  to  the  original.  It  gives  a  very  adequate 
presentation  of  the  character  of  Russian  folklore.  The 
translations  are  made  from  the  original  Afanasyev  collec- 
tion, which  is  considered  one  of  the  best  in  Russia.  Post 
Wheeler's  Russian  Wonder  Tales  is  less  complete,  yet  it 
has  the  advantage  of  twelve  Bilibin  illustrations  which, 
though  very  much  smaller  than  the  original  Russian  pic- 
tures, give  the  book  an  artistic  touch.  Arthur  Ransome's 
Old  Peter's  Russian  Tales  with  illustrations  by  the  Rus- 
sian artist,  Mitrokhin,  is  wholly  charming.  The  book 
represents  Russian  fairy-tales  retold  in  a  modern  manner, 
and  its  illustrations  are  vivid  and  full  of  fancy.  Richard 
Wilson's  Russian  Story  Book,  representing  a  prose  trans- 
lation of  some  heroic  epics  originally  composed  in  loose 
verse,  gives  the  contents  of  those  epics  but  hardly  con- 
veys their  spirit.  For  very  little  readers,  Russian  Picture 
Tales  by  Valery  Car  rick  is  highly  recommended.  Car- 
rick's  little  fairy  albums  enjoy  widespread  recognition  in 
Russia. 

In  conclusion,  may  we  not  suggest  a  few  Russian  books 
which,  in  our  opinion  might  be  welcome  in  any  library  for 
children,  the  world  over?  Leo  Tolstoi's  collection  of 
popular  stories  is  one  of  such  books;  Mamin-Sibiryak's 
tales,  another.  Of  the  modern  writers,  Kuprin  has  written 
a  number  of  realistic  stories  for  children  that  are  very  at- 
tractive. Collections  of  stories  from  the  works  of  various 
Russian  classics,  for  the  reading  of  young  Americans, 
would  be  advisable.     Many  such  stories  have  already 


3i6  APPENDIX 

been  translated,  but  they  are  strewn  among  other  works 
of  the  respective  authors.  Pushkin's  fairy  tales  in  verse, 
with  illustrations  by  Bilibin,  still  await  their  reincarnation 
in  English.  The  translator,  however,  must  be  a  poet  by 
the  grace  of  God,  to  be  able  to  put  the  beauty,  ease,  and 
musical  charm  of  Pushkin  into  English. 


INDEX 


Adrianov,  on  Ropshin's  Pale 
Hors-e,  278-279. 

Aksakov,  Iv.  S.,  on  S.  T. 
Aksakov,  50. 

Aksakov,  S.  T.,  as  nobleman, 
3;  describing  patriarchal  Rus- 
sia,  9;    character   and   works, 

49-Si. 
Almanacs,  in  twentieth  century, 

218-219. 
Andreyev,  vii ;  controversy  over, 

viii ;    creative   personality   and 

works,   230-239. 
Andreyevitch,     see     Solovyov, 

Evgeny. 
Anitchkov,     on     Mamin-Sibir- 

yak's    Ural    Stories,    138;    on 

Balmont,  175. 
Arabazhin,      on      Lermontov's 

Demon,  30;  on  Andreyev,  233, 

234;   on   Andreyev's   Life    of 

Man,  237. 
Army,    in    Kuprin's    Duel,   248- 

249. 
Arsenyev,     on     Vladimir     So- 

lovyov's      poems,      112;      on 

Kuprin,  246-247. 
Artzybashev,    creative    person- 
ality and  work,  265-269. 
Asheshov,  on  Gusev-Orenburg- 

sky's    Land    of    the    Fathers, 

300-301. 

Balmont,  vi;  on  poetry,  162;  on 
the  language,  167-168;  creative 
personality  and  works,  171- 
176. 

Batyushkov,  on  Alexey  Tol- 
stoi's poems,  94;  on  Alexey 
Tolstoi's  Trilogy,  95;  on 
Dostoyevsky's  Crime  and  Pun- 
ishment, 106;  on  Dostoyev- 
sky's Idiot,  108;  on  Dostoyev- 


sky's Brothers  Karamasov, 
108-109;  on  Bunin's  poems, 
254-255. 

Berdyayev,  on  Vladimir  So- 
lovyov, in. 

Block,  creative  personality  and 
works,    195-196. 

Boborykin,  character  and  works, 
140-142. 

Bogdanovitch,  on  Lyeskov,  122; 
on  Lyeskov's  At  Knives' 
Points,  124;  on  Kuprin's 
stories,  247-248. 

Bourgeoisie,  see  Middle-Class. 

Brodsky,  on  Koltzov,  34;  on 
Chernyshevsky's  What  Is  To 
Be  Donef  60. 

Bryusov,  vi;  on  Tyutchev's 
lyrical  poems,  92;  on  the  iden- 
tity of  the  real  and  the  im- 
aginary world,  164;  picturing 
the  industrial  city,  166;  crea- 
tive personality  and  works, 
177-179. 

Bugayev,  see  Byely. 

Bunin,  vii;  creative  personal- 
ity and  works,  251-256. 

Bureaucracy,  ridiculed  in  Gri- 
boyedov's  Misfortune  of  Rea- 
son, 22-23;  in  Gogol's  Con- 
troller General,  45-46. 

Burenin,  on  Turgenev's  Diary 
of  a  Sportsman,  78. 

Byelinsky,  as  leader,  n-12;  on 
Poltava,  19;  on  Griboyedov, 
24;  on  Lermontov,  29;  on  Ler- 
montov's Lyrical  Poems,  29- 
30;  creative  personality  and 
works,  35-40;  on  juvenile  lit- 
erature,  311. 

Byely,  on  Merezhkovsky,  181- 
182 ;  on  Sologub,  187 ;  creative 
personality  and  works,  199-206. 


317 


3i8 


INDEX 


Bykov,  on  Garin,  147;  on 
Garin's  Rural  Panorama,  150. 

Character,  National,  in  Gon- 
tcharov's  Oblomov,  73-74. 

Chekhov,  creative  personality 
and  works,   143-146. 

Chernyshevsky,  as  leader,  11- 
12;  character  and  works,  59- 
61. 

Chirikov,  vi;  character  and 
works,  270-276. 

City,  keenly  felt  in  works  of 
modernists,  166;  in  Bryusov's 
poems,  177-178;  in  the  works 
of  the  twentieth  century, 
210. 

Clergy,  in  the  works  of  Lyeskov, 
124-125;  in  the  works  of 
Gusev-Orenburgsky,  208-302. 

Critics,  leading  role  of,  in  nine- 
teenth century,  11-12;  losing 
leadership,  in  twentieth  cen- 
tury, 219. 

Darsky,   on   Tyutchev,   89-90. 

Derman,  on  Gorky,  224;  on 
Gorky's  Mother,  227-228;  on 
Sergeyev-Tzensky,  259. 

Dobrolyubov,  critic  and  leader, 
11-12;  on  Ostrovsky's  Storm, 

54- 

Dolinin,  on  Merezhkovsky  as 
author  of  historic  novels,  182; 
on  Merezhkovsky's  Leonardo 
da   Vinci,   183. 

Dostoyevsky,  creative  personal- 
ity and  works,  101-109. 

Druzhinin,  on  Foeth,  98. 

Eichenwald,  on  Pushkin,  16-17; 
on  Pushkin's  Boris  Godounov, 
20;  on  Gontcharov,  72-73;  on 
Foeth,  99-100;  on  L.  N. 
Tolstoi,  114-115;  on  Uspensky, 
130;  on  Chekhov's  works,  146; 
on  Korolenko,  152;  on  Bunin's 
poems,  254;  on  Zaitzev,  305. 

Ellis,  on  Gogol,  43. 

Foeth,  vi;  free  from  gloom,  8; 
outside  of  general  stream  of 
poetry,     12;     on     Tyutchev's 


lyrical  poems,  91-92;   creative 
personality  and  works,  97-100. 

Garin-Mikhaylovsky,  creative 
personality    and    works,    147- 

151. 

Garshin,  creative  personality 
and  works,  82-84. 

Gippius,  159;  on  religion,  163- 
164;   as  urban  writer,   166. 

Gogol,  first  to  picture  decay  of 
feudal  system,  9;  interested  in 
(Ukrainian)  peasantry,  9-10; 
on  Pushkin,  15-16,  17;  crea- 
tive personality  and  works, 
41-48. 

GOLENISHCHEV-K  UTUZOV,     On 

Bunin's   style,   253. 

Golovin,  on  Lyeskov's  Church- 
men, 125-126. 

Gontcharov,  as  nobleman,  3; 
describing  national  inertia,  9; 
on  Griboyedov's  Misfortune 
of  Reason,  24;  creative  per- 
sonality and  works,  7I-75- 

Gorky,  attacks  at,  viii;  creative 
personality  and  works,  222- 
229. 

Gornfeld,  on  Tyutchev,  90-91 ; 
on  Sologub,  187;  on  Sologub's 
Little  Demon,  189;  on  Ser- 
geyev-Tzensky, 259-260. 

Griboyedov,  creative  personality 
and  works,  22-24. 

Grigorovitch,  vi;  slow  in  man- 
ner, 11. 

Grigoryev,  A.,  on  Turgenev's 
Diary   of  a  Sportsman,  78. 

Grigoryev,  R.,  on  Gorky,  224- 
225. 

Grinevitch,  see  Yakubovitch. 

Gruzinsky,  on  Turgenev,  76- 
77;  on  Turgenev's  Short 
Stories,  77;  on  Turgenev's 
New  Earth,  81. 

Gusev-Orenburgsky,  vi ;  char- 
acter  and   works,   298-302. 

Gymnasium,  in  Garin's  Gym- 
nasium Pupils,   149. 

Hofman,  on  Block,  195. 

Ignatov,  on  Lermontov,  28-29; 


INDEX 


3*9 


on  Reshetnikov's  Those  of 
Podlipovka,  56;  on  Mamin- 
Sibiryak,   138. 

Individualism,  in  some  works  of 
twentieth   century,   215-216. 

Intelligentzia,  Evgeny  Onegin 
as  a  representative  of,  18; 
mistrusted  by  Lyeskov,  121; 
represented  by  Andreyev,  232; 
depicted  by  Veresayev,  240; 
against  the  background  of 
provincial  conservatism  in 
Chirikov's  works,  272-273;  in 
Zaitzev's  Far-Away  Country, 
306. 

Ivanov,  V.,  creative  personality 
and  works,  197-198. 

Ivanov-Razumnik,  on  Lermon- 
tov,  28;  on  Tolstoi's  War  and 
Peace,  116-117;  on  Byely, 
199 ;  on  Sergeyev-Tzensky, 
260,  262. 

Izmailov,  on  Block,  195;  on. 
Block's  Songs  of  the  Beauti- 
ful Lady,  196;  on  Ivanov,  197- 
198;  on  Veresayev's  Pathless, 
241. 

Jews,  sympathized  with  in 
Korolenko's  Yom-Kipur,  153 ; 
in  Chirikov's  Jews,  275;  in 
Yushkevitch's  works,  293- 
297. 

Juvenile  literature,  309-315. 

Kallash,  on  Kaltzov,  34. 

Kavyelin,  on  Byelinsky,  38-39. 

Kogan,  on  Tolstoi's  War  and 
Peace,  117;  on  Byely,  202. 

Koltonovskaya,  on  Garshin, 
83 ;  on  Veresayev,  241 ;  on 
Veresayev's  Towards  Life, 
243;  on  Kuprin's  Duel,  248- 
249;  on  Kuprin's  Leastry- 
gonians,  250;  on  Bunin's  Vil- 
lage, 256. 

Koltzov,  vi ;  as  raznotchinetz,  4 ; 
as  revelation  of  people's  spirit, 
9;  creative  personality  and 
works,  33-34- 

Korobka,  on  Gogol's  Dead 
Souls,  47;  on  Gusev-Oren- 
burgsky,  299. 


Korolenko,  6;  on  Garshin,  83; 
character  and  works,  152-153. 

Korolitzky,  on  Gorky,  228-229. 

Kotlyarevsky,  on  Byelinsky, 
39;  on  Gogol,  44-45- 

Kozlovsky,  on  Andreyev's  Black 
Masks,  235;  on  Andreyev's 
Judas  Iscariot,  236;  on  An- 
dreyev's Ocean,  238. 

Kranichfeld,  on  Nekrasov,  68; 
on  Shchedrin's  Monrepos, 
128;  on  Sologub's  Witchcraft, 
190;    on    Bunin's    poems,    254. 

Kuprin,  creative  personality  and 
works,  245-250,  315. 

Language,  Russian,  hardly 
changing  in  literature  up  to 
nineties,  12;  revolutionized  by 
modernists,   167-168. 

Lermontov,  vi;  as  nobleman,  3; 
character  and  works,  25-32. 

Lerner,  on  Lyeskov,  122;  on 
Lyeskov's  Enchanted  Wan- 
derer, 125. 

Life,  National,  in  the  sixties,  in 
Nekrasov's  Who  Lives  Well  in 
Russia?,  68-69;  in  the  early 
nineteenth  century,  in  Tol- 
stoi's War  and  Peace,  116-118; 
in  the  early  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, in  Merezhkovsky's  Peter 
and  Alexis,  184;  in  Block's 
Poems  on  Russia,  196;  in  pro- 
vincial towns,  described  by 
Chirikov,   270-271. 

Literature,  Russian,  reproducing 
spiritual  struggles,  v;  depict- 
ing everyday  existence,  v; 
largely  a  product  of  the  no- 
bility up  to  the  nineties,  3-4; 
a  substitution  for  public  activi- 
ties in  nineteenth  century,  4-6; 
as  a  serious  occupation,  6-8; 
as  voicing  a  sick  conscience,  8; 
as  describing  the  character  of 
the  nation,  8-9;  scrutinizing 
the  village,  9-10;  slow  in  man- 
ner and  style  up  to  end  of 
nineteenth  century,  10-11 ;  lack- 
ing external  perfection,  10-11; 
leading  place  of  critic  in,  11- 
12;    almost    uniform    in    Ian- 


320 


INDEX 


guage  up  to  nineties,  12-13; 
breathing  new  life  in  the  last 
quarter  century,  13 ;  modern- 
ist school  of,  157-170;  center 
of  gravity  moving  to  cities  in 
twentieth  century,  209-210; 
agrarian  revolts  as  a  new 
theme,  210-21 1 ;  depicting  revo- 
lutionary movements,  212; 
questioning  fundamentals,  212- 
213;  undergoing  changes  ac- 
cording to  prevailing  vogue, 
213-214 ;  discussing  religion, 
214-215;  sometimes  cherishing 
individualism,  215-216;  born 
on  a  sex-tide  after  1005,  216- 
218;  more  flexible  in  recent 
times,  217-218;  reforming  the 
language  and  style  in  twentieth 
century,  218;  using  the  al- 
manac, 218-219;  no  more  led 
by  critics,  219;  and  the  world 
war,    220-221 ;    juvenile,    309- 

315. 
Lunatcharsky,      on      religion, 

214-215. 

Lvov-Rogatchevsky,  on  Gorky's 
Philistines,  227;  on  Veresayev, 
240 ;  on  Veresayev's  Conta- 
gious Disease,  242;  on  Ser- 
geyev-Tzensky,  260;  on  Artzy- 
bashev,  266. 

Lyatzky,  on  Gontcharov's  Ob- 
lomov,  74. 

Lyeskov,  first  to  sketch  clergy, 
9;  creative  personality  and 
works,   121-125. 

Maikov,  vi. 

Mamin-Sibiryak,  creative  per- 
sonality and  works,  136-139; 
tales  for  children,  315. 

Marxists,  5-6;  attitude  towards 
peasantry,  6;  attitude  towards 
industrial  workers,  6;  opposed 
to   Mikhaylovsky,   131. 

Melshin,  see  Yakubovitch. 

Merezhkovsky,  on  Gogol,  44; 
on  Gontcharov,  73;  on  Dos- 
toyevsky,  104- 105;  on  autoc- 
racy, 161 ;  on  Christianity,  163  ; 
creative  personality  and  works, 
180-185. 


Middle-class,  pictured  by  Os- 
trovsky,  52-55 ;  modern,  dis- 
covered by  Shchedrin,  126, 
128;  rise  of,  pictured  by 
Boborykin,  140-142;  decay  of, 
in  Gorky's  Philistines,  227. 

Mikhaylovsky,  as  leader,  11- 
12;  on  Ostrovsky,  53;  on  Gar- 
shin's  stories,  84;  on  Uspen- 
sky,  129-130;  character  and 
works,  131-133;  ridiculing  the 
modernists,    169-170. 

Minsky,  vi. 

Modernists,  appearance  of,  13; 
Mikhaylovsky  opposed  to,  132 ; 
social  background  of,  157-159; 
as  a  distinct  group,  159;  as 
aloof  from  social  problems, 
160-162;  indifferent  to  peas- 
antry, 161 ;  not  hostile  to 
autocracy,  161 ;  embodying  in 
words  the  finest  shades  of 
emotion,  162-163;  adhering  to 
an  idealistic  philosophy,  163; 
conceiving  poetry  as  a  road  to 
the  mystic  reality  of  life,  164; 
opposed  to  restriction  of  per- 
sonal freedom,  165 ;  children 
of  the  city,  166;  influenced  by 
foreign  poets,  166-167;  revolu- 
tionizing Russian  language, 
167-168;  not  decadents,  168; 
severely  criticized  at  the  out- 
set, 169-170. 

Morozov,  on   Zaitzev,  305-306. 

Moscow,  in  Boborykin's  novels, 
141. 

Moujik,  see   Peasantry. 

Mujzhel,  vi ;  creative  personal- 
ity and  works,  287-291. 

Nadson,  creative  personality  and 
works,  86-87. 

Narodniki,  5-6;  attitude  to- 
wards peasantry,  5-6;  repre- 
sented in  Turgenev's  New 
Earth,  80-81 ;  Uspensky  as  one 
of,  129. 

Nekrasov,  vi;  writing  of  peas- 
ants' sufferings,  10;  creative 
personality   and   works,  68-70. 

Nevedomsky,  on  Mamin-Sibir- 
yak, 137. 


INDEX 


321 


Nezelyonov,  on  Turgenev's  No- 
bleman's Nest,  79. 

Nihilists,  general  characteristics, 
79-80 ;  in  Turgenev's  Fathers 
and  Children,  80;  mistrusted 
by  Lyeskov,  121 ;  in  Lyeskov's 
Nowhere  and  At  Knives' 
Points,  123-124. 

Nikitin,  v;  as  raznotchinetz,  4. 

Nikolsky,   on   Foeth,   100. 

Nobility,  producing  major  part 
of  literature  in  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, 3-4;  conscious  of  debt  to 
the  people,  8;  represented  in 
Pushkin's  Evgeny  Onegin,  18; 
represented  in  Griboyedov's 
Misfortune  of  Reason,  22-23  > 
disintegration  of,  represented 
in  Gogol's  Dead  Souls,  47-48; 
pictured  at  its  best  by  Ak- 
sakov,  49-50;  in  the  works  of 
Turgenev,  77,  79 ;  thinking  ele- 
ments of,  in  Tolstoi's  Anna 
Karenina,  116;  decay  of,  in 
Shchedrin's  Family  Golovlev, 
127;  impoverished  in  Bunin's 
works,  251,  252. 

Omeltchenko,  on  Artzybashev, 
265;  on  Artzybashev's  Sanin, 
268-269. 

Ostrovsky,  vii ;  introducing  the 
middle-class,  9;  creative  per- 
sonality and  works,  52-55- 

OVSYANIK  O-KULIKOVSKY,    On 

Pushkin,  18;  on  Dostoyevsky's 
Brothers  Karamazov,  109;  on 
Shchedin,  127;  on  Uspensky's 
In  the  Grip  of  the  Earth,  130; 
on  Boborykin's  Men  of  Af- 
fairs, 140- 141. 

Peasantry,  reverence  of  Narod- 
niki  for,  5-6;  attitude  of 
Marxists  towards,  6;  a  mys- 
tery to  the  Russian  mind,  9- 
10;  unaware  of  its  power,  10; 
under  serfdom  in  the  works  of 
Aksakov,  49;  half-savages  in 
the  works  of  Reshetnikov,  56; 
family  life  in  Nekrasov's  Red 
Nose  Frost,  69-70;  human 
qualities     of,     in     Turgenev's 


Diary  of  a  Sportsman,  77-78, 
agricultural  life  in  Uspensky's 
works,  130;  darkness  of,  in 
Garin's  A  Few  Years  in  the 
Village  and  Rural  Panorama, 
149-150;  new  types  of,  in  lit- 
erature of  twentieth  century, 
21 1 ;  rebellious  in  Gorky's 
Summer,  228;  savage  in 
Bunin's  works,  252-253,  255; 
afflicted  with  suffering  in 
Muizhel's  works,  287-291. 

Pereverzev,  on  Gogol,  45;  on 
Gogol's  Dead  Souls,  47-48. 

Petersburg,  see  Petrograd. 

Petrograd,  represented  in  Push- 
kin's Copper  Rider,  20;  in 
Dostoyevsky's  Crime  and  Pun- 
ishment, 106. 

Pisarev,  as  leader,  11-12;  char- 
acter and  works,  62-66;  on 
Gontcharov's  Oblomov,  74;  on 
Turgenev's  Fathers  and  Chil- 
dren, 80;  on  juvenile  litera- 
ture, 311-312. 

Pisemsky,  vi;  slow  in  manner, 
11. 

Plekhanov,  on  Byelinsky,  39; 
on  Chernyshevsky's  What  Is 
To  Be  Done?  59-6o;  on 
Ropshin's  What  Never  Hap- 
pened, 279-280. 

Polonsky,  vi. 

POTAPENKO,    Vi. 

Prison-life,  in  the  works  of 
Yakubovitch,    134- 135. 

Protopopov,  on  Aksakov's  Fam- 
ily Chronicles,  50-51. 

Pushkin,  vi;  as  nobleman,  3; 
exemplary  in  poetic  language 
up  to  the  nineties,  12;  crea- 
tive personality  and  works, 
14-21,  314. 

Pyast,  on  Ivanov,  198;  on 
Byely's   Symphonies,  203. 

Pypin,  on  Pushkin,  16. 

Radlov,  on  Vladimir   Solovyov, 

IIO-III. 

Raznotchinetz,  4;  gloomy  on 
account  of  Russian  chaos,  8. 

Religion,  in  Dostoyevsky's 
works,    101-109;    in    Tolstoi's 


322 


INDEX 


works,  114-119;  in  works  of 
modernists,  163;  in  literature 
of  twentieth  century,  214-215; 
in  Gorky's  Confessions,  228. 

Remizov,  creative  personality 
and  works,   281-286. 

Reshetnikov,  as  raznotchinetz, 
4;  describing  savagery  of  peo- 
ple, 10;  creative  personality 
and   works,   56. 

Revolution,  period  of,  in  Russia, 
209;  main  topic  of  literature 
in  twentieth  century,  212; 
foreboded  in  Gorky's  early 
works,  222-223;  in  Gorky's 
Mother,  227-228;  in  An- 
dreyev's King  Hunger,  237; 
moods  of  intellectuals  in 
Veresayev's  works,  242-243 ; 
various  aspects  of,  in  Artzy- 
bashev's  works,  267-268;  dis- 
carding fighters  of  old  type, 
in  Chirikov's  works,  275;  and 
professional  revolutionists,  in 
Ropshin's  works,  278-280;  ex- 
iles, in  Mujzhel's  On  Edge  of 
Life,  291 ;  and  the  clergy,  in 
Gusev-Orenburgsky's  works, 
300-301. 

Ropshin  (Savinkov)  works, 
277-280. 

Rubakin,  on  juvenile  literature, 
312. 

Russanov,  on  Mikhaylovsky, 
131-132. 

Ryedko,  on  Yakubovitch's  In  the 
World  of  Castazvays,   135. 

Saltykov  (Shchedrin),  vii;  cre- 
ative personality  and  works, 
126-128. 

Savinkov,  see  Ropshin. 

Shchedrin,  see  Saltykov. 

Sementkovsky,  on  Lyeskov's 
Bullsheep,   123. 

Serfdom,  see  Peasantry. 

Sergeyev-Tzensky,  vii;  creative 
personality  and  works,  257- 
264. 

Siberia,  in  the  works  of  Mamin- 
Sibiryak,  136-139;  in  Koro- 
lenko's  stories,   152-153. 

Skabitchevsky,    on    Ostrovsky, 


53;  on  Lyeskov's  Nowhere, 
123;  on  Boborykin,  140. 

Slavophils,  5. 

Sologub,  creative  personality 
and  works,   186-191. 

Solovyov,  Evgeny  (Andreye- 
vitch),  on  Lermontov,  27;  on 
Gorky's  Foma  Gordyeyev,  226. 

Solovyov,  Vladimir,  on  Ty- 
utchev,  90;  on  Alexey  Tolstoi, 
93;  character  and  works,  110- 
113. 

Stanyukovitch,  vi. 

Strakhov,  on  Turgenev's  Fa- 
thers and  Children,  80;  on 
Foeth's  poems,  08-99. 

Styeklov,  on  Chernyshevsky's 
What  Is  To  Be  Done?  59. 

Tchukovsky,  on  Bryusov,  178; 
on   Bryusov's   Stephanos,   178- 

1.79. 

Tolstoi,  Alexey,  as  nobleman, 
3;  free  from  gloom,  8;  crea- 
tive personality  and  works, 
93-95. 

Tolstoi,  L.  N.,  as  nobleman,  3; 
creative  personality  and  works, 
114-119;  viewed  by  Merezh- 
kovsky,  185;  author  of  tales 
for  the  people,  315. 

Turgenev,  vii;  as  nobleman,  3; 
sees  human  being  in  peasant, 
9;  portraying  peasants,  10; 
exemplary  in  prose  language 
in  nineteenth  century,  12;  on 
Pushkin,^  14 ;  on  Aksakov's 
Notes  of  a  Hunter,  51 ;  crea- 
tive personality  and  works, 
76-81. 

Tyutchev,  outside  of  general 
stream  of  poetry,  12;  creative 
personality  and   works,   88-92. 

Ukrainia,  folk  beliefs  in  Gogol's 
tales,  45;  in  Korolenko's 
stories,  153. 

Uspensky,  vii,  6;  observer  of 
peasant  life,  10;  slow  in  man- 
ner, 11:  general  character  and 
works,    129-130. 

Vengerov,  on  Aksakov's  Family 


INDEX 


323 


Chronicles,  50;  on  Turgenev's 

Diary  of  a  Sportsman,  78;  on 

Balmont,  174-175. 
Veresayev,   creative   personality 

and  works,  240-244. 
Veselovsky,      on      Griboyedov, 

23- 
Volynsky,      on      Dostoyevsky's 

Idiot,  107;  on  the  critic's  task, 

165;     character     and     works, 

192-194. 
Vygodsky,  on  Balmont,  175. 
Vyetrinsky,     on     Dostoyevsky, 

105. 

Weinberg,  on  Ostrovsky,  54;  on 
Nekrasov's  Who  Lives  Well  in 
Russia  ?  69. 

Westerners,  5. 

Working-Class,  more  enlight- 
ened    than     peasantry,     210; 


hailing  Gorky's  return  home, 
225;  represented  in  Nil,  the 
hero  of  Gorky's  Philistines, 
227;  changing  under  influence 
of  an  ideal,  in  Gorky's 
Mother,  227-228. 
World-War,  in  Sologub's  War 
Poems,  191 ;  and  Russian  lit- 
erature, 220-221 ;  in  Chirikov's 
War  Sketches,  276. 

Yakubovitch,  P.  (P.  Ya.,  Mel- 
shin,  Grinevitch),  6;  character 
and  works,   134-135. 

Yelpatievsky,  on  Gar  in,  148. 

Yushkevitch,  vi,*  creative  per- 
sonality and  works,  292-297. 

Zaitzev,  creative  personality  and 

works,  303-306. 
Zlatovratsky,  11. 


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